051 


PS 

2514 

15 

1893 

MAIN 


GIFT   ©F 
A.    P.    Morrison 


/__; l 


IN    OLE   VIRGINIA 


CAMEO    EDITION. 
& 

REVERIES  OF  A  BACHELOR;  or,  a  Book  of  the  Heart.    By 
Donald  G.  Mitchell.    With  an  Etching  by  Percy  Moran. 

DREAM  LIFE.     A  Fable  of  the  Seasons.     With  an  Etching 
by  Percy  Moran. 

OLD  CREOLE  DAYS.    By  George  W.  Cable.    With  an  Etching 
by  Percy  Moran. 

IN  OLE  VIRGINIA.    By  Thomas  Nelson  Page.   With  an  Etch 
ing  by  W.  L.  Sheppard. 

BITTER-SWEET.    A  Poem.    By  J.  G.  Holland.    With  an  Etch 
ing  by  Otto  Bacher. 

KATHRINA.    A  Poem.     By  J.  G.  Holland.     With  an  Etching 
by  Otto  Bacher. 


Each,  one  volume,  16mo. 
Half  calf,  g.  t.,  $2.75;  half  levant,  $3.50;  cloth,  $1.25. 


IN  OLE  VIRGINIA 


OK 


MARSE  CHAN  AND  OTHER  STORIES 


BY- 
THOMAS   NELSON    PAGE 

WITH  AN  ETCHING  BY  W.  L.  SHEPPARD 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 
1893. 


GIFT  OF 


TROW   DIRECTORY 

AND  BOOKBINOINQ  COMPA 


TO 

MY   PEOPLE 

THIS    FRAGMENTARY   RECORD 

OF  THEIR  LIFE   IS 

DEDICATED 


M98925 


CONTENTS 


MARSE  CHAN  :   A  TALE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA       .        .  i 

"UNC"  EDINBURG'S  DROWNDIN'"  :  A  PLANTATION 

ECHO 41 

MEH  LADY:  A  STORY  OF  THE  WAR         ...  83 

OLE  'STRACTED 145 

"No  HAID  PAWN" 169 

POLLY  :  A  CHRISTMAS  RECOLLECTION  .        .        .  197 


MARSE   CHAN 


MARSE   CHAN 


A   Tale  of  Old  Virginia 


NE  afternoon,  in  the  autumn  of  1872, 
I  was  riding  leisurely  down  the  sandy 
road  that  winds  along  the  top  of  the 
water-shed  between  two  of  the  smaller 
rivers  of  eastern  Virginia.  The  road  I  was  trav 
elling,  following  "  the  ridge  "  for  mijes,  had  just 
struck  me  as  most  significant  of  the  character  of 
the  race  whose  only  avenue  of  communication 
with  the  outside  world  it  had  formerly  been. 
Their  once  splendid  mansions,  now  fast  falling  to 
decay,  appeared  to  view  from  time  to  time,  set 
back  far  from  the  road,  in  proud  seclusion,  among 
groves  of  oak  and  hickory,  now  scarlet  and  gold 
with  the  early  frost.  Distance  was  nothing  to 
this  people ;  time  was  of  no  consequence  to  them. 
They  desired  but  a  level  path  in  life,  and  that  they 
had,  though  the  way  was  longer,  and  the  outer 
world  strode  by  them  as  they  dreamed. 

I  was  aroused  from  my  reflections  by  hearing 


2  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

some  one  ahead  of  me  calling,  "  Heah  !  — heah — 
whbo-otip,  heah ! v' 

Turning  the  cuive  in  the  road,  I  saw  just  before 
me  a  negro  standing,  with  a  hoe  and  a  watering- 
pet  'in  ,lus;  hai«.d<  ,  He  had  evidently  just  gotten 
over  the  "iworcn-fence  "  into  the  road,  out  of  the 
path  which  led  zigzag  across  the  "  old  field  "  and 
was  lost  to  sight  in  the  dense  growth  of  sassafras. 
When  I  rode  up,  he  was  looking  anxiously  back 
down  this  path  for  his  dog.  So  engrossed  was  he 
that  he  did  not  even  hear  my  horse,  and  I  reined 
in  to  wait  until  he  should  turn  around  and  satisfy 
my  curiosity  as  to  the  handsome  old  place  half  a 
mile  off  from  the  road. 

The  numerous  out-buildings  and  the  large  barns 
and  stables  told  that  it  had  once  been  the  seat  of 
wealth,  and  the  wild  waste  of  sassafras  that  cov 
ered  the  broad  fields  gave  it  an  air  of  desolation 
that  greatly  excited  my  interest. 

Entirely  oblivious  of  my  proximity,  the  negro 
went  on  calling  "  Whoo-oop,  heah  !  "  until  along 
the  path,  walking  very  slowly  and  with  great  dig 
nity,  appeared  a  noble-looking  old  orange  and 
white  setter,  gray  with  age,  and  corpulent  with 
excessive  feeding.  As  soon  as  he  came  in  sight, 
his  master  began: 

"  Yes,  dat  you  !  You  gittin'  deaf  as  well  as 
bline,  I  s'pose  !  Kyarnt  heah  me  callin',  I  reckon  ? 
Whyn't  yo'  come  on,  dawg  ?  " 

The  setter  sauntered  slowly  up  to  the  fence  and 
stopped,  without  even  deigning  a  look  at  the 


MARSE   CHAN  3 

speaker,  who  immediately  proceeded  to  take  the 
rails  down,  talking  meanwhile  : 

"Now,  I  got  to  pull  down  de  gap,  I  s'pose ! 
Yo'  so  sp'ilt  yo'  kyahn  hardly  walk.  Jes'  ez  able 
to  git  over  it  as  I  is  !  Jes'  like  white  folks  — 
think  'cuz  you's  white  and  I's  black,  I  got  to  wait 
on  yo'  all  de  time.  Ne'm  mine,  I  am'  gwi'  do  it !  " 

The  fence  having  been  pulled  down  sufficiently 
low  to  suit  his  dogship,  he  marched  sedately 
through,  and,  with  a  hardly  perceptible  lateral 
movement  of  his  tail,  walked  on  down  the  road. 
Putting  up  the  rails  carefully,  the  negro  turned 
and  saw  me. 

"  Sarvent,  marster,"  he  said,  taking  his  hat  off. 
Then,  as  if  apologetically  for  having  permitted  a 
stranger  to  witness  what  was  merely  a  family  af 
fair,  he  added :  "  He  know  I  don'  mean  nothin' 
by  what  I  sez.  He's  Marse  Chan's  dawg,  an'  he's 
so  ole  he  kyahn  git  long  no  pearter.  He  know 
I'se  jes'  prodjickin'  wid  'im." 

"  Who  is  Marse  Chan?  "  I  asked ;  "  and  whose 
place  is  that  over  there,  and  the  one  a  mile  or  two 
back  —  the  place  with  the  big  gate  and  the  carved 
stone  pillars  ?  " 

"  Marse  Chan,"  said  the  darky,  "  he's  Marse 
Channin' — my  young  marster  ;  an'  dem  places  — 
dis  one's  Weall's,  an'  de  one  back  dyar  wid  de 
rock  gate-pos's  is  ole  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin's.  Dey 
don'  nobody  live  dyar  now,  'cep'  niggers.  Arfter 
de  war  some  one  or  nurr  bought  our  place,  but 
his  name  done  kind  o'  slipped  me.  I  nuver  hearn 


4  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

on  'im  befo' ;  I  think  dey's  half-strainers.  I  don 
ax  none  on  'em  no  odds.  I  lives  down  de  road 
heah,  a  little  piece,  an'  I  jes'  steps  down  of  a  even- 
in'  and  looks  arfter  de  graves." 

"  Well,  where  is  Marse  Chan  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Hi !  don'  you  know  ?  Marse  Chan,  he  went 
in  de  army.  I  was  wid  'im.  Yo'  know  he  warn' 
gwine  an'  lef  Sam." 

"  Will  you  tell  me  all  about  it  ?  "  I  said,  dis 
mounting. 

Instantly,  and  as  if  by  instinct,  the  darky  stepped 
forward  and  took  my  bridle.  I  demurred  a  little ; 
but  with  a  bow  that  would  have  honored  old  Sir 
Roger,  he  shortened  the  reins,  and  taking  my 
horse  from  me,  led  him  along. 

"  Now  tell  me  about  Marse  Chan,"  I  said. 

"  Lawd,  marster,  hit's  so  long  ago,  I'd  a'most 
forgit  all  about  it,  ef  I  hedn'  been  wid  him  ever 
sence  he  wuz  born.  Ez  'tis,  I  remembers  it  jes' 
like  'twuz  yistiddy.  Yo'  know  Marse  Chan  an' 
me  —  we  wuz  boys  togerr.  I  wuz  older'n  he  wuz, 
jes'  de  same  ez  he  wuz  whiter'n  me.  I  wuz  born 
plantin'  corn  time,  de  spring  arfter  big  Jim  an'  de 
six  steers  got  washed  away  at  de  upper  ford  right 
down  dyar  b'low  de  quarters  ez  he  wuz  a  bringin' 
de  Chris'mas  things  home;  an'  Marse  Chan,  he 
warn'  born  tell  mos'  to  de  harves'  arfter  my  sister 
Nancy  married  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin's  Torm,  'bout 
eight  years  arfter  woods. 

"  Well,  when  Marse  Chan  wuz  born,  dey  wuz 
de  grettes'  doin's  at  home  you  ever  did  see.  De 


MA  USE    CHAN  5 

folks  all  bed  holiday,  jes'  like  in  de  Chris'mas. 
Ole  marster  (we  didn'  call  'im  ole  marster  tell 
arfter  Marse  Chan  wuz  born  —  befo'  dat  he  wuz 
jes'  de  marster,  so)  —  well,  de  marster,  his  face 
fyar  shine  wid  pleasure,  an'  all  de  folks  wuz 
mighty  glad,  too,  'cause  dey  all  loved  ole  marster, 
and  aldo'  dey  did  step  aroun'  right  peart  when 
ole  marster  was  lookin'  at  'em,  dyar  warn'  nyar 
ban'  on  de  place  but  what,  ef  he  wanted  anythin', 
would  walk  up  to  de  back  poach,  an'  say  he  warn' 
to  see  de  marster.  An'  ev'ybody  wuz  talkin'  'bout 
de  young  marster,  an'  de  maids  an'  de  wimmens 
'bout  de  kitchen  wuz  sayin'  how  'twuz  de  purties' 
chile  dey  ever  see ;  an'  at  dinner-time  de  mens 
(all  on  'em  bed  holiday)  come  roun'  de  poach  an' 
ax  how  de  missis  an'  de  young  marster  wuz,  an' 
ole  marster  come  out  on  de  poach  an'  smile  wus'n 
a  'possum,  an'  sez,  '  Thankee !  Bofe  doin'  fust 
rate,  boys  ; '  an*  den  he  stepped  back  in  de  house, 
sort  o'  laughin'  to  hisse'f,  an'  in  a  minute  he  come 
out  ag'in  wid  de  baby  in  he  arms,  all  wrapped 
up  in  flannens  an'  things,  an'  sez,  '  Heah  he  is, 
boys.'  All  de  folks  den,  dey  went  up  on  de  poach 
to  look  at  'im,  drappin'  dey  hats  on  de  steps  an' 
scrapin'  dey  feets  ez  dey  went  up.  An'  pres'n'y 
ole  marster,  lookin'  down  at  we  all  chil'en  all 
packed  togerr  down  dyah  like  a  parecel  o'  sheep- 
burrs,  cotch  sight  o'  me  (he  knowed  my  name, 
'cause  I  use'  to  hole  he  boss  fur  'im  sometimes ; 
but  he  didn'  know  all  de  chil'en  by  name,  dey  wuz 
so  many  on  'em),  an'  he  sez,  'Come  up  heah.' 


6  IN   OLE    VIRGINIA 

So  up  I  goes  tippin',  skeered  like,  an'  de  marster 
sez,  '  Ain'  you  Mymie's  son  ?  '  '  Yass,  sell,'  sez  I. 
'  Well,'  sez  he,  '  I'm  gwine  to  give  you  to  yo' 
young  Marse  Channin'  to  be  his  body-servant,' 
an'  he  put  de  baby  right  in  my  arms  (it's  de  truth 
I'm  tellin'  yo' !),  an'  yo'  jes'  ought  to  a-heard  de 
folks  sayin',  '  Lawd  !  marster,  dat  boy'll  drap  dat 
chile  !  '  '  Naw,  he  won't,'  sez  marster  ;  '  I  kin 
trust 'im.'  And  den  he  sez:  'Now,  Sam,  from 
dis  time  you  belong  to  yo'  young  Marse  Channin'; 
I  wan'  you  to  tek  keer  on  'im  ez  long  ez  he  lives. 
You  are  to  be  his  boy  from  dis  time.  An'  now,' 
he  sez,  'carry  'im  in  de  house.'  An'  he  walks 
arfter  me  an'  opens  de  do's  fur  me,  an'  I  kyars  'im 
in  in  my  arms,  an'  lays  'im  down  on  de  bed.  An' 
from  dat  time  I  was  tooken  in  de  house  to  be 
Marse  Channin' s  body-servant. 

"  Well,  you  nuver  see  a  chile  grow  so  ! 

"  Pres'n'y  he  growed  up  right  big,  an'ole  marster 
sez  he  must  have  some  edication.  So  he  sont  'im 
to  school  to  ole  Miss  Lawry  down  dyar,  dis  side  o' 
Cun'l  Chahmb'lin's,  an'  I  use'  to  go  'long  wid  'im 
an'  tote  he  books  an'  we  all's  snacks ;  an'  when 
he  larnt  to  read  an'  spell  right  good,  an'  got  'bout 
so-o  big  (measuring  with  his  hand  a  height  of 
some  three  feet),  ole  Miss  Lawry  she  died,  an'  ole 
marster  said  he  mus'  have  a  man  to  teach  'im  an' 
trounce  'im.  So  we  all  went  to  Mr.  Hall,  whar 
kep'  de  school-house  beyant  de  creek,  an'  dyar  we 
went  ev'y  day, — 'cep  Sat'd'ys  of  co'se,  an'  sich  days 


MARSE   CHAN  7 

ez  Marse  Chan  din'  warn'  go,  an'  ole  missis  begged 
'im  off. 

"  Hit  wuz  down  dyar  Marse  Chan  fust  took  no- 
ticement  o'  Miss  Anne. 

"  Mr.  Hall,  he  teach  gals  ez  well  ez  boys,  an' 
Cun'l  Chahmb'lin  he  sont  his  daughter  (dat's  Miss 
Anne  I'm  talkin'  about).  She  wuz  a  leetle  bit  o' 
gal  when  she  fust  come.  Yo'  see,  her  ma  wuz 
dead,  an'  ole  Miss  Lucy  Chahmb'lin,  she  lived 
wid  her  brurr  an'  kep'  house  for  'im ;  an'  he  wuz 
so  busy  wid  politics,  he  didn'  have  much  time  to 
spyar,  so  he  sont  Miss  Anne  to  Mr.  Hall's  by  a 
'ooman  wid  a  note. 

"  When  she  come  dat  day  in  de  school-house,  an' 
all  de  chil'en  looked  at  her  so  hard,  she  tu'n  right 
red,  an'  tried  to  pull  her  long  curls  over  her  eyes, 
an'  den  put  bofe  de  backs  of  her  little  han's  in  her 
two  eyes,  an'  begin  to  cry  to  herse'f.  Marse  Chan 
he  was  settin'  on  de  een'  o'  de  bench  nigh  de  do', 
an'  he  jes'  retched  out  an'  put  he  arm  roun'  her 
an'  drawed  her  up  to  'im.  An'  he  kep'  whisperin' 
to  her,  an'  callin'  her  name,  an'  coddlin'  her ;  an' 
pres'n'y  she  took  her  han's  down  an'  begin  to 
laugh. 

"  Well,  dey  'peared  to  tek'  a  gre't  fancy  to  each 
urr  from  dat  time.  Miss  Anne  she  warn'  nuttin' 
but  a  baby  hardly,  an'  Marse  Chan  he  wuz  a  good 
big  boy  'bout  mos'  thirteen  year  ole,  I  reckon. 
Hows'ever,  dey  sut'n'y  wuz  sot  on  each  urr  an' 
(yo'  heah  me !)  ole  marster  an'  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin 


S  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

dey  'peared  to  like  it  'bout  well  ez  de  chil'en.  Yo' 
see,  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin's  place  j'ined  ourn,  an'  it 
looked  jes'  ez  nat'chal  fur  dem  two  chil'en  to 
marry  an'  mek  it  one  plantation,  ez  it  did  fur  de 
creek  to  run  down  de  bottom  from  our  place 
into  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin's.  I  don'  rightly  think  de 
chil'en  thought  'bout  gittin'  married,  not  den,  no 
mo'n  I  thought  'bout  mar'yin'  Judy  when  she  wuz 
a  little  gal  at  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin's,  runnin'  'bout 
de  house,  huntin'  fur  Miss  Lucy's  spectacles ;  but 
dey  wuz  good  frien's  from  de  start.  Marse  Chan 
he  use'  to  kyar  Miss  Anne's  books  fur  her  ev'y 
day,  an'  ef  de  road  wuz  muddy  or  she  was  tired, 
he  use'  to  tote  her;  an'  'twarn'  hardly  a  day  passed 
dat  he  didn'  kyar  her  some'n'.  to  school  —  apples 
or  hick'y  nuts,  or  some'n'.  He  wouldn'  let  none 
o'  de  chil'en  tease  her,  nurr.  Heh !  One  day, 
one  o'  de  boys  poke'  he  finger  at  Miss  Anne,  and 
arfter  school  Marse  Chan  he  axed  'im  'roun'  nine 
de  school-house  out  o'  sight,  an'  ef  he  didn'  whup 
'im! 

"(Marse  Chan,  he  wuz  de  peartes'  scholar  ole 
Mr.  Hall  hed,  an'  Mr.  Hall  he  wuz  mighty  proud 
on  'im.  I  don'  think  he  use'  to  beat  'im  ez  much 
ez  he  did  de  urrs,  aldo'  he  wuz  de  head  in  all 
debilment  dat  went  on,  jes'  ez  he  wuz  in  sayin'  he 
lessons.) 

"  Heh  !  one  day  in  summer,  jes'  fo'  de  school 
broke  up,  dyah  come  up  a  storm  right  sudden, 
an'  riz  de  creek  (dat  one  yo'  cross'  back  yonder), 
an'  Marse  Chan  he  toted  Miss  Anne  home  on  he 


MARSE  CHAN  9 

back.  He  ve'y  off'n  did  dat  when  de  parf  wuz 
muddy.  But  dis  day  when  dey  come  to  de  creek, 
it  had  done  washed  all  de  lawgs  'way.  'Twuz  still 
mighty  high,  so  Marse  Chan  he  put  Miss  Anne 
down,  an'  he  took  a  pole  an'  waded  right  in.  Hit 
took  'im  long  up  to  de  shoulders.  Den  he  waded 
back,  an'  took  Miss  Anne  up  on  his  head  an' 
kyared  her  right  over.  At  fust  she  was  skeered ; 
but  he  tol'  her  he  could  swim  an'  wouldn'  let  her 
git  hu't,  an'  den  she  let  'im  kyar  her  'cross,  she 
hol'in'  his  han's.  I  warn'  'long  dat  day,  but  he 
sut'n'y  did  dat  thing ! 

"  Ole  marster  he  wuz  so  pleased  'bout  it,  he  giv' 
Marse  Chan  a  pony;  an'  Marse  Chan  rode  'im  to 
school  de  day  arfter  he  come,  so  proud,  an'  sayin' 
how  he  wuz  gwine  to  let  Anne  ride  behine  'im. 
When  he  come  home  dat  evenin'  he  wuz  walkin'. 
*  Hi !  where's  yo'  pony  ?  '  said  ole  marster.  '  I 
give  'im  to  Anne,'  says  Marse  Chan.  '  She  liked 
'im,  an' — I  kin  walk.'  'Yes,'  sez  ole  marster, 
laughin',  '  I  s'pose  you's  already  done  giv'  her 
yo'se'f,  an'  nex'  thing  I  know  you'll  be  givin'  her 
this  plantation  and  all  my  niggers.' 

"  Well,  about  a  fortnight  or  sich  a  matter  arfter 
dat,  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin  sont  over  an'  invited  all  o'  we 
all  over  to  dinner,  an'  Marse  Chan  wuz  'spressaly 
named  in  de  note  whar  Ned  brought;  an'  arfter 
dinner  he  made  ole  Phil,  whar  wuz  his  ker'ige- 
driver,  bring  roun'  Marse  Chan's  pony  wid  a  little 
side-saddle  on  'im,  an'  a  beautiful  little  hoss  wid  a 
bran'-new  saddle  an'  bridle  on  him;  an'  he  gits  up 


io  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

an'  meks  Marse  Chan  a  gre't  speech,  an'  presents 
'im  de  little  hoss ;  an'  den  he  calls  Miss  Anne,  an' 
she  comes  out  on  de  poach  in  a  little  ridin'  frock{ 
an'  dey  puts  her  on  her  pony,  an'  Marse  Chan 
mounts  his  hoss,  an'  dey  goes  to  ride,  while  de 
grown  folks  is  a-settin'  on  de  poach  an'  a-laughin' 
an'  chattin'  an'  smokin'  dey  cigars. 

"Dem  wuz  good  ole  times,  marster  —  de  bes' 
Sam  uver  see  !  Dey  wuz,  in  fac' !  Niggers  didn' 
hed  nothin'  V  all  to  do — jes'  hed  to  'ten'  to  de 
feedin'  an'  cleanin'  de  hosses,  an'  doin'  what  de 
marster  tell  'em  to  do;  an'  when  dey  wuz  sick, 
dey  had  things  sont  'em  out  de  house,  an'  de  same 
doctor  come  to  see  'em  whar  'ten'  to  de  white  folks 
when  dey  wuz  po'ly,  an'  all.  Dyar  warn'  no 
trouble  nor  nuttin'. 

"  Well,  things  tuk  a  change  arfter  dat.  Marse 
Chan  he  went  to  de  bo'din'  school,  whar  he  use' 
to  write  to  me  constant.  Ole  missis  use'  to  read 
me  de  letters,  an'  den  I'd  git  Miss  Anne  to  read 
'em  ag'in  to  me  when  I'd  see  her.  He  use'  to 
write  to  her  too,  an'  she  use'  to  write  to  him  too ! 
Den  Miss  Anne  she  wuz  sont  off  to  school  too. 
An'  in  de  summer  time  dey'd  bofe  come  home,  an' 
yo'  hardly  know  wherr  Marse  Chan  lived  at  home 
or  over  at  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin's.  He  wuz  over  dyah 
constant !  'Twuz  al'ays  ridin'  or  fishin'  down 
dyah  in  de  river ;  or  sometimes  he'd  go  over 
dyah,  an'  'im  an'  she'd  go  out  an'  set  in  de  yard 
onder  de  trees  ;  she  settin'  up  mekin'  out  she  wuz 
knittin'  some  sort  o'  bright-cullored  some'n',  wid 


MARSE   CHAN  zi 

de  grarss  growin  all  up  'g'inst  her,  an'  her  hat 
th'owed  back  on  her  neck,  an'  he  readin'  to  her 
out  books ;  an'  sometimes  dey'd  bofe  read  out  de 
same  book,  fust  one  an'  den  turr.  I  use'  to  see 
'em !  Dat  wuz  when  dey  wuz  growin'  up  like. 
"  Den  ole  marster  he  run  for  Congress,  an'  ole 
Cun'l  Chahmb'lin  he  wuz  put  up  to  run  'g'inst  ole 
marster  by  de  Dimicrats ;  but  ole  marster  he  beac 
'im.  Yo'  know  he  wuz  gwine  do  dat !  Co'se  he 
wuz  !  Dat  made  ole  Cun'l  Chahmblin  mighty 
mad,  and  dey  stopt  visitin'  each  urr  reg'lar,  like 
dey  had  been  doin'  all  'long.  Den  Cun'l  Chahm 
b'lin  he  sort  o'  got  in  debt,  an'  sell  some  o'  he  nig 
gers,  an'  dat's  de  way  de  fuss  begun.  Dat's  whar 
de  lawsuit  come  from.  Ole  marster  he  didn'  like 
nobody  to  sell  niggers,  an'  knowin'  dat  Cun'l 
Chahmb'lin  wuz  sellin'  o'  his,  he  writ  an'  offered 
to  buy  his  M'ria  an'  all  her  chil'en,  'cause  she  hed 
mar'ied  our  Zeek'yel.  An'  don'  yo'  think,  Cun'l 
Chahmb'lin  axed  ole  marster  mo'  'n  th'ee  niggers 
wuz  wuth  fur  M'ria  !  Befo'  old  marster  buy  her, 
dough,  de  sheriff  come  an'  levelled  on  M'ria  an'  a 
whole  parecel  o'  urr  niggers.  Ole  marster  he 
went  to  de  sale,  an'  bid  for  'em ;  but  Cun'l 
Chahmb'lin  he  got  some  one  to  bid  'g'inst  ole 
marster.  Dey  wuz  knocked  out  to  ole  marster 
dough,  an'  den  dey  hed  a  big  lawsuit,  an'  ole 
marster  was  agwine  to  co't,  off  an'  on,  fur  some 
years,  till  at  lars'  de  co't  decided  dat  M'ria  be- 
jongst  to  ole  marster.  Ole  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin  den 
wuz  so  mad  he  sued  ole  marster  for  a  little  strip 


12  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

o'  Ian'  down  dyah  on  de  line  fence,  whar  he  said 
belongst  to  him.  Evy'body  knowed  hit  belongst 
to  ole  marster.  Ef  yo'  go  down  dyah  now,  I  kin 
show  it  to  yo',  inside  de  line  fence,  whar  it  hed 
done  been  uver  sence  long  befo'  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin 
wuz  born.  But  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin  was  a  mons'us 
perseverin'  man,  an'  ole  marster  he  wouldn'  let 
nobody  run  over  'im.  No,  dat  he  wouldn' !  So 
dey  wuz  agwine  down  to  co't  about  dat,  fur  I  don' 
know  how  long,  till  ole  marster  beat  'im  agin. 

"  All  dis  time,  yo'  know,  Marse  Chan  wuz  agoin' 
back'ads  and  for'ads  to  college,  an'  wuz  growed 
up  a  ve'y  fine  young  man.  He  wuz  a  ve'y  likely 
gent'man  !  Miss  Anne  she  hed  done  mos'  growed 
up  too  —  wuz  puttin'  her  hyar  up  like  ole  missis 
use'  to  put  hers  up,  an'  'twuz  jes'  ez  bright  ez  de 
sorrel's  mane  when  de  sun  cotch  on  it,  an'  her 
eyes  wuz  gre't  big  dark  eyes,  like  her  pa's,  on'y 
bigger  an'  not  so  fierce,  an'  'twarn'  none  o'  de 
young  ladies  ez  purty  ez  she  wuz.  She  an'  Marse 
Chan  still  set  a  heap  o'  sto'  by  one  'nurr,  but  I 
don't  think  dey  wuz  easy  wid  each  urr  ez  when  he 
used  to  tote  her  home  from  school  on  he  back. 
Marse  Chan  he  use'  to  love  de  ve'y  groun'  she 
walked  on,  dough,  is  my  'pinion.  Heh  !  His  face 
'twould  light  up  whenever  she  come  into  chu'ch, 
or  anywhere,  jes'  like  de  sun  hed  come  th'oo  a 
chink  on  it  sudden'y. 

"  Den  ole  marster  los'  he  eyes.  D'  yo'  ever 
heah  'bout  dat  ?  Heish  !  Didn'  yo'  ? 

"  Well,  one  night  de  big  barn  cotch  fire.     De 


MARSE   CHAN  13 

stables,  yo'  know,  wuz  onder  de  big  barn,  an'  all 
de  bosses  wuz  in  dyah.  Hit  'peared  to  me  like 
'twarn'  no  time  befo'  all  de  folks  an'  de  neighbors 
dey  come,  an'  dey  wuz  a-totin'  water,  an'  a-tryin' 
to  save  de  po'  critters,  and  dey  got  a  heap  on  'em 
out;  but  de  ker'ige-hosses  dey  would  n'  come 
out,  an'  dey  wuz  a-runnin'  back'ads  an'  for'ads 
inside  de  stalls,  a-nikerin'  an'  a-screamin',  like 
dey  knowed  dey  time  hed  come.  Yo'  could  heah 
'em  in  dyah  so  pitiful,  an'  pres'n'y  ole  marster 
said  to  Ham  Fisher  (he  wuz  de  ker'ige-driver), 
'  Go  in  dyah,  Ham,  an'  try  to  save  'em;  don'  let 
'em  bu'n  to  death.' 

"  An'  Ham  he  went  right  in. 

"  An'  jest  arfter  he  got  in,  de  shed  whar  it  hed 
fus'  cotch  fell  in,  an'  de  sparks  shot  'way  up  in  de 
air ;  an'  Ham  didn'  come  back ;  an'  de  fire  begin 
to  lick  out  onder  de  eaves  over  whar  de  ker'ige 
bosses'  stalls  wuz.  An'  all  of  a  sudden  ole  marster 
tu'ned  an'  kissed  ole  missis,  who  was  standin' 
dyah  nigh  him,  wid  her  face  jes'  ez  white  ez  a 
sperit's,  an',  befo'  anybody  knowed  what  he  wuz 
gwine  do,  jumped  right  in  de  do',  an'  de  smoke 
come  po'in'  out  behine  'im.  Well,  seh  !  I  nuver 
'spects  to  heah  tell  Jedgment  sich  a  soun'  ez  de 
folks  set  up!  Ole  missis  —  she  jes'  drapt  down 
on  her  knees  in  de  mud  an'  prayed  out  loud. 

"  Hit  'peared  like  her  pra'r  wuz  heard  ;  for  in  a 
minit,  right  out  de  same  do',  kyain'  Ham  Fisher 
in  his  arms,  come  ole  marster,  wid  his  clo's  all 
blazin'.  Dey  fling  water  on  'im,  an'  put  'im  out ; 


i4  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

an',  ef  you  b'lieve  me,  yo'  wouldn'  a-knowed  'twuz 
ole  marster. 

"  Yo'  see,  he  hed  done  find  Ham  Fisher  done 
fall  down  in  de  smoke  right  by  the  ker'ige-hoss' 
stalls,  whar  he  sont  him,  an'  he  hed  to  tote  'im 
back  in  his  arms  th'oo  de  fire  what  hed  done  cotch 
de  front  part  o'  de  stable,  and  to  keep  de  flame 
from  gittin'  down  Ham  Fisher'  th'ote  he  hed  teck 
off  his  own  hat  and  mashed  it  all  over  Ham  Fish 
er'  face,  an'  he  hed  kep'  Ham  Fisher  from  bein' 
so  much  bu'nt ;  but  he  wuz  bu'nt  dreadful !  He 
beard  an'  hyar  wuz  all  nyawed  off,  an'  he  face  an' 
han's  an'  neck  wuz  scorified  turrible.  Well,  he 
jes'  laid  Ham  Fisher  down,  an'  then  he  kind  o' 
staggered  for'ad,  an'  ole  missis  ketch'  'im  in  her 
arms. 

"  Ham  Fisher,  he  warn'  bu'nt  so  bad,  an'  he  got 
out  in  a  month  or  two  ;  an'  arfter  a  long  time,  ole 
marster  he  got  well,  too ;  but  he  wuz  always  stone 
blind  arfter  that.  He  nuver  could  see  none  from 
dat  night. 

"  Marse  Chan  he  corned  home  from  college  to- 
reckly,  an'  he  sut'n'y  did  nuss  ole  marster  faithful 
— jes'  like  a  'ooman. 

"  Den  he  teck  charge  of  de  plantation  arfter  dat ; 
an'  I  use'  to  wait  on  'im  jes'  like  when  we  wuz 
boys  togerr ;  an'  sometimes  we'd  slip  off  an'  have 
a  fox-hunt,  an'  he'd  be  jes'  like  he  wuz  in  ole 
times,  befo'  ole  marster  got  bline,  an'  Miss  Anne 
Chahmb'lin  stopt  comin'  over  to  our  house,  an' 
settin'  onder  de  trees,  readin'  out  de  same  book. 


MARSE   CHAN  15 

"  He  sut'n'y  vvuz  good  to  me.  Nuttin  nuver 
made  no  diffunce  'bout  dat !  He  nuver  hit  me  a 
lick  in  his  life  —  an'  nuver  let  nobody  else  do  it, 
nurr. 

"  I  'members  one  day,  when  he  vvuz  a  lee  tie  bit 
o'  boy,  ole  marster  hed  done  tole  we  all  chil'en  not 
to  slide  on  de  straw-stacks ;  an'  one  day  me  an* 
Marse  Chan  thought  ole  marster  hed  done  gone 
'way  from  home.  We  watched  him  git  on  he  hoss 
an'  ride  up  de  road  out  o'  sight,  an'  we  wuz  out  in 
de  field  a-slidin'  an'  a-slidin',  when  up  comes  ole 
marster.  We  start  to  run  ;  but  he  hed  done  see 
us,  an'  he  called  us  to  come  back ;  an'  sich  a 
whuppin'  ez  he  did  gi'  us ! 

"  Fust  he  took  Marse  Chan,  an'  den  he  teched 
me  up.  He  nuver  hu't  me,  but  in  co'se  I  wuz  a- 
hollerin'  ez  hard  ez  I  could  stave  it,  'cause  I  knowed 
dat  wuz  gwine  mek  him  stop.  Marse  Chan  he 
hed'n  open  he  mouf  long  ez  ole  marster  was  tunin' 
'im ;  but  soon  ez  he  commence  warmin'  me  an'  I 
begin  to  holler,  Marse  Chan  he  bu'st  out  cryin', 
an'  stept  right  in  befo'  ole  marster,  an'  ketchin'  de 
whup,  said  : 

"  '  Stop,  seh  !  Yo'  sha'n't  whup  'im ;  he  b'longs 
to  me,  an'  ef  you  hit  'im  another  lick  I'll  set  'im 
free !  ' 

"  I  wish  yo'  hed  see  ole  marster  !  Marse  Chan 
he  warn'  mo'n  eight  years  ole,  an'  dyah  dey  wuz 
—  old  marster  stan'in'  wid  he  whup  raised  up,  an' 
Marse  Chan  red  an'  cryin',  hol'in'  on  to  it,  an' 
sayin'  I  b'longst  to  'im. 


16  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

"  Ole  marster,  he  raise'  de  whup,  an'  den  he 
drapt  it,  an'  broke  out  in  a  smile  over  he  face,  an' 
he  chuck'  Marse  Chan  onder  de  chin,  an'  tu'n  right 
roun'  an'  went  away,  laughin'  to  hisse'f,  an'  I  heah' 
'im  tellin'  ole  missis  'bout  it  dat  evenin',  an' 
laughin'  'bout  it. 

"  'Twan'  so  mighty  long  arfter  dat  when  dey 
fust  got  to  talkin'  'bout  de  war.  Dey  wuz  a-dic- 
tatin'  back'ads  an'  for'ds  'bout  it  fur  two  or  th'ee 
years  'fo'  it  come  sho'  nuff,  you  know.  Ole  mars 
ter,  he  was  a  Whig,  an'  of  co'se  Marse  Chan  he 
teck  after  he  pa.  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin,  he  wuz  a 
Dimicrat.  He  wuz  in  favor  of  de  war,  an'  ole 
marster  and  Marse  Chan  dey  wuz  agin'  it.  Dey 
wuz  a-talkin'  'bout  it  all  de  time,  an'  purty  soon 
Cun'l  Chahmb'lin  he  went  about  ev'vywhar 
speakin'  an'  noratin'  'bout  Ferginia  ought  to  se 
cede  ;  an'  Marse  Chan  he  wuz  picked  up  to  talk 
agin'  'im.  Dat  wuz  de  way  dey  come  to  fight  de 
duil.  I  sut'n'y  wuz  skeered  fur  Marse  Chan  dat 
mawnin',  an'  he  was  jes'  ez  cool ! 

"  Yo'  see,  it  happen  so  :  Marse  Chan  he  wuz  a- 
speakin'  down  at  de  Deep  Creek  Tavern,  an'  he 
kind  o'  got  de  bes'  of  ole  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin.  All 
de  white  folks  laughed  an'  hoorawed,  an'  ole  Cun'l 
Chahmb'lin  —  my  Lawd!  I  t'ought  he'd 'a'  bu'st, 
he  was  so  mad.  Well,  when  it  come  to  his  tu'n 
to  speak,  he  jes'  light  into  Marse  Chan.  He  call 
'im  a  traitor,  an'  a  ab'litionis',  an'  I  don'  know 
what  all.  Marse  Chan,  he  jes'  kep'  cool  till  de 
ole  Cun'l  light  into  he  pa,  Ez  soon  ez  he  name 


AfARSE   CHAN  17 

ole  marster,  I  seen  Marse  Chan  sort  o'  lif '  up  he 
head.  D'  yo'  ever  see  a  hoss  rar  he  head  up  right 
sudden  at  night  when  he  see  somethin'  comin' 
to'ds  'im  from  de  side  an'  he  don'  know  what  'tis  ? 
Ole  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin  he  went  right  on.  He  say 
ole  marster  hed  teach  Marse  Chan ;  dat  ole  mars 
ter  wuz  a  wuss  ab'litionis'  dan  he  son.  I  looked 
at  Marse  Chan,  an'  sez  to  myse'f :  '  Fo'  Gord  ! 
old  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin  better  min' !  an'  I  hedn'  got 
de  wuds  out,  when  ole  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin  scuse'  ole 
marster  o'  cheatin'  'im'  out  o'he  niggers,  an'  stealin' 
piece  o'  he  Ian* — dat's  de  Ian'  I  tole  you  'bout. 
Well,  seh,  nex'  thing  I  knowed,  I  heahed  Marse 
Chan  — hit  all  happen  right  'long  togerr,  like  light- 
nin'  and  thunder  when  they  hit  right  at  you !  —  I 
heah  'im  say : 

" '  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin,  what  you  say  is  false,  an' 
yo'  know  it  to  be  so.  You  have  wilfully  slandered 
one  of  de  pures'  an'  nobles'  men  Gord  ever  made, 
an'  nothin'  but  yo'  gray  hyars  protects  you.' 

"  Well,  ole  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin,  he  ra'ed  an'  he 
pitch'd !  He  said  he  wan'  too  ole,  an'  he'd  show 
'im  so. 

"  '  Ve'y  well,'  says  Marse  Chan. 

"  De  meetin  breke  up  den.  I  wuz  hol'in'  de 
hosses  out  dyar  in  de  road  by  de  een'  o'  de  poach, 
an'  I  see  Marse  Chan  talkin'  an'  talkin'  to  Mr. 
Gordon  an'  anurr  gent'man,  and  den  he  come  out 
an'  got  on  de  sorrel  an'  galloped  off.  Soon  ez  he 
got  out  o'  sight  he  pulled  up,  an'  we  walked  along 
tell  we  come  to  de  road  whav  leads  off  to'ds  Mr. 


i8  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

Barbour's.  He  wuz  de  big  lawyer  o'  de  country. 
Dar  he  tu'ned  off.  All  dis  time  he  hedn'  sed  a 
wud,  'cep'  to  kind  o'  mumble  to  hisse'f  now  and 
den.  When  we  got  to  Mr.  Barbour's,  he  got 
down  an'  went  in.  (Dat  wuz  in  de  late  winter ;  de 
folks  wuz  jes'  beginnin'  to  plough  fur  corn.)  He 
stayed  dyar  'bout  two  hours,  an'  when  he  come 
out  Mr.  Barbour  come  out  to  de  gate  wid  'im  an' 
shake  han's  arfter  he  got  up  in  de  saddle.  Den 
we  all  rode  off. 

"  'Twuz  late  den —  good  dark;  an'  we  rid  ez  hard 
ez  we  could,  tell  we  come  to  de  ole  school-house 
at  ole  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin's  gate.  When  we  got 
clean,  Marse  Chan  got  down  an'  walked  right  slow 
'roun'  de  house.  Arfter  lookin'  roun'  a  little 
while  an'  tryin'  de  do'  to  see  ef  't  wuz  shet,  he 
walked  down  de  road  tell  he  got  to  de  creek.  He 
stop'  dyar  a  little  while  an'  picked  up  two  or 
three  little  rocks  an'  frowed  'em  in,  an'  pres'n'y  he 
got  up  an'  we  come  on  home.  Ez  he  got  down, 
he  tu'ned  to  me,  an',  rubbin'  de  sorrel's  nose,  said: 
'  Have  'em  well  fed,  Sam ;  I'll  want  'em  early  in 
de  mawnin'.' 

"  Dat  night  at  supper  he  laugh  an'  talk,  an'  he 
set  at  de  table  a  long  time.  Arfter  ole  marster 
went  to  bed,  he  went  in  de  charmber  an'  set  on 
de  bed  by  'im  talkin'  to  'im  an'  tellin'  'im  'bout  de 
meetin'  an'  e'vything;  but  he  nuver  mention  ole 
Cun'l  Chahmb'lin's  name.  When  he  got  up  to 
come  out  to  de  office  in  de  yard,  whar  he  slept,  he 
stooped  down  an'  kissed  'im  jes'  like  he  wuz  a 


MAKSE   CHAN  j9 

baby  layin'  dyar  in  de  bed,  an'  he'd  hardly  let  ole 
missis  go  at  all. 

"  I  knowed  some'n  wuz  up,  an'  nex  mawnin'  I 
called  'im  early  befo'  light,  like  he  tole  me,  an'  he 
dressed  an'  come  out  pres'n'y  jes'  like  he  wuz 
gwine  to  church.  I  had  de  hosses  ready,  an'  we 
went  out  de  back  way  to'ds  de  river. 

"  Ez  we  rid  along,  he  said  : 

" '  Sam,  you  an'  I  wuz  boys  togerr,  wa'n't 
we? ' 

"  '  Yes,'  sez  I,  '  Marse  Chan,  dat  we  wuz.' 

" '  You  have  been  ve'y  faithful  to  me,'  sez  he, 
'  an'  I  have  seen  to  it  that  you  are  well  provided 
fur.  You  want  to  marry  Judy,  I  know,  an'  you'll 
be  able  to  buy  her  ef  you  want  to. ' 

"  Den  he  tole  me  he  wuz  gwoine  to  fight  a  duil, 
an'  in  case  he  should  git  shot,  he  had  set  me  free 
an'  giv'  me  nuff  to  tek  keer  o'  me  an'  my  wife  ez 
long  ez  we  lived.  He  said  he'd  like  me  to  stay 
an'  tek  keer  o'  ole  marster  an'  ole  missis  ez  long 
ez  dey  lived,  an'  he  said  it  wouldn'  be  ve'y  long, 
he  reckoned.  Dat  wuz  de  on'y  time  he  voice 
broke  —  when  he  said  dat ;  an'  I  couldn'  speak  a 
wud,  my  th'oat  choked  me  so. 

"  When  we  come  to  de  river,  we  tu'ned  right  up 
de  bank,  an'  arfter  ridin'  'bout  a  mile  or  sich  a 
motter,  we  stopped  whar  dey  wuz  a  little  clearin' 
wid  elder  bushes  on  one  side  an'  two  big  gum- 
trees  on  de  urr,  an'  de  sky  wuz  all  red,  an'  de 
water  down  tow'ds  whar  the  sun  wuz  comin'  wuz 
jes'  like  de  sky. 


20  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

"  Pres'n'y  Mr.  Gordon  he  come,  wid  a  'hogany 
box  'bout  so  big  'fore  'im,  an'  he  got  down,  an' 
Marse  Chan  tole  me  to  tek  all  de  hosses  an'  go 
'roun'  behine  de  bushes  whar  I  tell  you  'bout  — 
off  to  one  side ;  an'  'fore  I  got  'roun'  deah,  ole 
Cun'l  Chahmb'lin  an'  Mr.  Hennin  an'  Dr.  Call 
come  ridin'  from  t'urr  way,  to'ds  ole  Cun'l  Chahm- 
b'lin's.  When  dey  hed  tied  dey  hosses,  de  urr 
gent'mens  went  up  to  whar  Mr.  Gordon  wuz,  an' 
arfter  some  chattin'  Mr.  Hennin  step'  off  'bout 
fur  ez'  cross  dis  road,  or  mebbe  it  mout  be  a  little 
fur'er ;  an'  den  I  see  'em  th'oo  de  bushes  loadin' 
de  pistils,  an'  talk  a  little  while;  an'  den  Marse 
Chan  an'  ole  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin  walked  up  an'  dey 
gin'  'em  de  pistils  in  dey  han's,  an'  Marse  Chan  he 
stand  wid  his  face  right  tow'ds  de  sun.  I  seen  it 
shine  on  him  jes'  ez  it  come  up  over  de  low 
groun's,  an'  he  look  like  he  did  sometimes  when 
he  come  out  of  church. 

"  I  wuz  so  skeered  I  couldn'  say  nuttin'.  Ole 
Cun'l  Chahmb'lin  could  shoot  fust  rate,  an'  Marse 
Chan  he  nuver  missed. 

"  Den  I  heahed  Mr.  Gordon  say,  '  Gent'mens, 
is  yo'  ready  ?  '  and  bofe  of  'em  sez,  «  Ready,'  jes' 
so. 

"An'  he  sez,  ' Fire,  one,  two' — an'  ez  he  said 
'one,'  ole  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin  raised  he  pistil  an' 
shot  nght  at  Marse  Chan.  De  ball  went  th'oo  his 
hat :  I  seen  he  hat  sort  o'  settle  on  he  head  ez  de 
bullit  hit  it !  an'  he  jes'  tilted  his  pistil  up  in  de 
a'r  an'  shot  —  bang ;  an'  ez  de  pistil  went  '  bang] 


MARSE   CHAN  21 

he  sez  to  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin,  '  I  mek  you  a  present 
to  yo'  fam'ly,  seh  !  ' 

"  Well,  dey  had  some  talkin'  arfter  dat.  I  didn't 
git  rightly  what  't  wuz  ;  but  it  'peared  like  Cun'l 
Chahmb'lin  he  warn't  satisfied,  an'  wanted  to  have 
anurr  shot.  De  seconds  dey  wuz  talkin',  an' 
pres'n'y  dey  put  de  pistils  up,  an'  Marse  Chan  an' 
Mr.  Gordon  shook  han's  wid  Mr.  Hennin  an'  Dr. 
Call,  an'  come  an'  got  on  dey  hosses.  An'  Cun'l 
Chahmb'lin  he  got  on  his  horse  an'  rode  away  wid 
de  urr  gent'mens,  lookin'  like  he  did  de  day  befo' 
when  all  de  people  laughed  at  'im. 

"  I  b'lieve  ole  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin  wan'  to  shoot 
Marse  Chan,  anyways ! 

"  We  come  on  home  to  breakfast,  I  totin'  de  box 
wid  de  pistils  befo'  me  on  de  roan.  Would  you 
b'lieve  me,  seh,  Marse  Chan  he  nuver  said  a  wud 
'bout  it  to  ole  marster  or  nobody!  Ole  missis 
didn'  fin'  out  'bout  it  for  mo'n  a  month,  an'  den, 
Lawd !  how  she  did  cry  and  kiss  Marse  Chan ; 
an'  ole  marster,  aldo'  he  nuver  say  much,  he  wuz 
jes'  ez  please'  ez  ole  missis :  he  call'  me  in  de 
room  an'  made  me  tole  'im  all  'bout  it,  an'  when 
I  got  th'oo  he  gi'  me  five  dollars  an'  a  pyar  of 
breeches. 

"  But  ole  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin  he  nuver  did  furgive 
Marse  Chan,  an'  Miss  Anne  she  got  mad  too. 
Wimmens  is  mons'us  onreasonable  nohow.  Dey's 
jes'  like  a  catfish  :  you  can  n'  tek  hole  on  'em  like 
urr  folks,  an'  when  you  gits  'm  yo'  can  n'  always 
hole  'em  ! 


22  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

"  What  meks  me  think  so  ?  Heaps  o'  things  — 
dis :  Marse  Chan  he  done  gi'  Miss  Anne  her  pa 
jes'  ez  good  ez  I  gi'  Marse  Chan's  dawg  sweet 
'taters,  an'  she  git  mad  wid  'im  ez  if  he  hed  kill 
'im  stid  o'  sen'in  'im  back  to  her  dat  mawnin' 
whole  an'  soun'.  B'lieve  me !  she  wouldn'  even 
speak  to  him  arfter  dat ! 

"  Don'  I  'member  dat  mawnin' ! 

"  We  wuz  gwine  fox-huntin',  'bout  six  weeks  or 
sich  a  matter  arfter  de  duil,  an'  we  meet  Miss  Anne 
ridin'  'long  wid  anurr  lady  an'  two  gent'mens  whar 
wuz  stayin'  at  her  house.  Dyah  wuz  always  some 
one  or  nurr  dyah  co'tin'  her.  Well,  dat  mawnin'" 
we  meet  'em  right  in  de  road.  'Twuz  de  fust  time 
Marse  Chan  had  see  her  sence  de  duil,  an'  he  raises 
he  hat  ez  he  pahss,  an'  she  looks  right  at  'im  wid 
her  head  up  in  de  yair  like  she  nuver  see  'im  befo' 
in  her  born  days ;  an'  when  she  comes  by  me,  she 
sez,  '  Good-mawnin',  Sam  !  '  Gord  !  I  nuver  see 
nuttin'  like  de  look  dat  come  on  Marse  Chan's 
face  when  she  pahss  'im  like  dat.  He  gi'  de  sorrel 
a  pull  dat  fotch  'im  back  settin  down  in  de  san'  on 
he  hanches.  He  ve'y  lips  wuz  white.  I  tried  to 
keep  up  wid  'im,  but  'twarn  no  use.  He  sont  me 
back  home  pres'n'y,  an'  he  rid  on.  I  sez  to  my 
self,  '  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin,  don'  yo'  meet  Marse 
Chan  dis  mawnin'.  He  ain'  bin  lookin'  'roun'  de 
ole  school-house,  whar  he  an'  Miss  Anne  use'  to 
go  to  school  to  ole  Mr.  Hall  togerr,  to-day.  He 
won'  stan'  no  prodjickin'  to-day.' 

"  He  nuver  come  home  dat  night  tell  'way  late, 


MARSE   CHAN  23 

an'  ef  he'd  been  fox-huntin'  it  mus'  ha'  been  de 
o!e  red  whar  lives  down  in  de  greenscum  mashes 
he'd  been  chasin'.  De  way  de  sorrel  wuz  gormed 
up  wid  sweat  an*  mire  sut'n'y  did  hu't  me.  He 
walked  up  to  de  stable  wid  he  head  down  all  de 
way,  an'  I'se  seen  'im  go  eighty  miles  of  a  winter 
day,  an'  prance  into  de  stable  at  night  ez  fresh  ez  cf 
he  hed  jes'  cantered  over  to  ole  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin's 
to  supper.  I  nuver  see  a  hoss  beat  so  sence  1 
knowed  de  fetlock  from  de  fo'lock,  an'  bad  ez  he 
wuz  he  want  ez  bad  ez  Marse  Chan. 

"Whew  !  he  didn'  git  over  dat  thing,  seh  —  he 
nuver  did  git  over  it ! 

"  De  war  come  on  jes'  den,  an'  Marse  Chan  wuz 
elected  cap'n ;  but  he  wouldn'  tek  it.  He  said 
Firginia  hadn'  seceded,  an'  he  wuz  gwine  stan'  by 
her.  Den  dey  'lected  Mr.  Gordon  cap'n. 

"  I  sut'n'y  did  wan'  Marse  Chan  to  tek  de  place, 
cuz  I  knowed  he  wuz  gwine  tek  me  wid  'im.  He 
wan'  gwine  widout  Sam.  An'  beside,  he  look  so 
po'  an'  thin,  I  thought  he  wuz  gwine  die. 

"  Of  co'se,  ole  missis  she  heared  'bout  it,  an' 
she  met  Miss  Anne  in  de  road,  an'  cut  her  jes'  like 
Miss  Anne  cut  Marse  Chan.  Ole  missis,  she  wuz 
proud  ez  anybody ! 

"  So  we  wuz  mo'  strangers  dan  ef  we  hadn'  live' 
in  a  hunderd  miles  of  each  urr.  An'  Marse  Chan 
he  wuz  gittin'  thinner  an'  thinner,  an'  Firginia  she 
come  out,  an'  den  Marse  Chan  he  went  to  Rich 
mond  an'  listed,  an'  come  back  an'  sey  he  wuz  a 
private,  an'  he  didn'  know  whe'r  he  could  tek  me 


24  IN   OLE    VIRGINIA 

or  not.  He  writ  to  Mr.  Gordon,  hows'ever,  an1 
'twuz  'tided  dat  when  he  went  I  wuz  to  go  'long 
an'  wait  on  him  an'  de  cap'n  too.  I  didn'  min' 
dat,  yo'  know,  long  ez  I  could  go  wid  Marse  Chan, 
an'  I  like'  Mr.  Gordon,  anyways. 

"  Well,  one  night  Marse  Chan  come  back  from 
de  offis  wid  a  telegram  dat  say, '  Come  at  once,'  so 
he  wuz  to  start  next  mawnin'.  He  uniform  wuz 
all  ready,  gray  wid  yaller  trimmin's,  an'  mine  wuz 
ready  too,  an'  he  had  ole  marster's  sword,  whar 
de  State  gi'  'im  in  de  Mexikin  war ;  an'  he  trunks 
wuz  all  packed  wid  ev'rything  in  'em,  an'  my  chist 
was  packed  too,  an'  Jim  Rasher  he  druv  'em  over 
to  de  depo'  in  de  waggin,  an'  we  wuz  to  start  nex' 
mawnin'  'bout  light.  Dis  wuz  'bout  de  las'  o' 
spring,  you  know. 

"  Dat  night  ole  missis  made  Marse  Chan  dress 
up  in  he  uniform,  an'  he  sut'n'y  did  look  splendid, 
wid  he  long  mustache  an'  he  wavin'  hyah  an'  he 
tall  figger. 

"  Arfter  supper  he  come  down  an'  sez :  '  Sam,  I 
wan'  you  to  tek  dis  note  an'  kyar  it  over  to  Cun'l 
Chahmb'lin's,  an'  gi'  it  to  Miss  Anne  wid  yo'  own 
han's,  an'  bring  me  wud  what  she  sez.  Don'  let 
any  one  know  'bout  it,  or  know  why  you've  gone.' 
« Yes,  seh,'  sez  I. 

"  Yo'  see,  I  knowed  Miss  Anne's  maid  over  at 
ole  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin's  —  dat  wuz  Judy, —  an'  I 
knowed  I  could  wuk  it.  So  I  tuk  de  roan  an*  rid 
over,  an'  tied  'im  down  de  hill  in  de  cedars,  an'  I 
wen'  'roun'  to  de  back  yard.  'Twuz  a  right 


CHAN  25 

blowy  sort  o'  night;  de  moon  wuz  jes'  risin',  but 
de  clouds  wuz  so  big  it  didn'  shine  'cep  th'oo  a 
crack  now  an'  den.  I  soon  foun'  my  gal,  an'  arfter 
tellin'  her  two  or  three  lies  'bout  herse'f,  I  got  her 
to  go  in  an'  ax  Miss  Anne  to  come  to  de  do'. 
When  she  come,  I  gi'  her  de  note,  an'  arfter  a  little 
while  she  bro't  me  anurr,  an'  I  tole  her  good-by, 
an'  she  gi'  me  a  dollar,  an'  I  come  home  an'  gi'  de 
letter  to  Marse  Chan.  He  read  it,  an'  tole  me  to 
have  de  bosses  ready  at  twenty  minits  to  twelve 
at  de  corner  of  de  garden.  An'  jes'  befo'  dat  he 
come  out  ez  he  wuz  gwine  to  bed,  but  instid  he 
come,  an'  we  all  struck  out  to'ds  Cun'l  Chahm- 
blin's.  When  we  got  mos'  to  de  gate,  de  hosses 
got  sort  o'  skeered,  an'  I  see  dey  wuz  some'n  or 
somebody  standin' jes'  inside  ;  an'  Marse  Chan  he 
jumpt  off  de  sorrel  an'  flung  me  de  bridle  and  he 
walked  up. 

"  She  spoke  fust.  'Twuz  Miss  Anne  had  done 
come  out  dyar  to  meet  Marse  Chan,  an'  she  sez,  jes 
ez  cold  ez  a  chill, '  Well,  seh,  I  granted  your  favor. 
I  wished  to  reliebe  myse'f  of  de  obligations  you 
placed  me  under  a  few  months  ago,  when  you 
made  me  a  present  of  my  father,  whom  you  fust 
insulted  an'  then  prevented  from  gittin'  satisfac 
tion.' 

"  Marse  Chan  he  didn'  speak  fur  a  minit,  an'  den 
he  said  :  '  Who  is  with  you  ?  '  (Dat  wuz  ev'y  wud. ) 

" 'No  one,'  sez  she  ;  'I  came  alone.' 

"  '  My  God ! '  sez  he, '  you  didn'  come  all  through 
those  woods  by  yourse'f  at  this  time  o'  night?' 


26  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

"'Yes,  I'm  not  afraid,'  sez  she.  (An'  heah 
dis  nigger!  I  don'  b'lieve  she  wuz.) 

"  De  moon  come  out,  an'  I  cotch  sight  o'  her 
stan'in  dyah  in  her  white  dress,  wid  de  cloak  she 
had  wrapped  herse'f  up  in  drapped  off  on  de 
groun',  an'  she  didn'  look  like  she  wuz  'feared  o' 
nuthin'.  She  wuz  mons'us  purty  ez  she  stood 
dyah  wid  de  green  bushes  behine  her,  an'  she  hed 
jes*  a  few  flowers  in  her  breas' — right  heah  — 
and  some  leaves  in  her  sorrel  hyah ;  an'  de  moon 
come  out  an'  shined  clown  on  her  hyah  an'  her 
frock,  an'  peared  like  de  light  wuz  jes'  stan'in  off 
it  ez  she  stood  dyah  lookin'  at  Marse  Chan  wid 
her  hed  tho'd  back,  jes'  like  dat  mawnin'  when 
she  pahss  Marse  Chan  in  de  road  widout  speakin' 
to  'im,  an'  sez  to  me,  *  Good-mawnin',  Sam.' 

"  Marse  Chan,  he  den  tole  her  he  hed  come  to 
say  good-by  to  her,  ez  he  wuz  gwine  'way  to  de 
war  nex'  mawnin'.  I  wuz  watchin'  on  her,  an'  I 
tho't,  when  Marse  Chan  tole  her  dat,  she  sort  o' 
started  an'  looked  up  at  'im  like  she  wuz  mighty 
sorry,  an'  'peared  like  she  didn'  stan'  quite  so 
straight  arfter  dat.  Den  Marse  Chan  he  went  on 
talkin'  right  fars'  to  her ;  an*  he  tole  her  how  he 
had  loved  her  ever  sence  she  wuz  a  little  bit  o' 
baby  mos',  an'  how  he  nuver  'membered  de  time 
when  he  hedn'  hope'  to  marry  her.  He  tole  her 
it  wuz  his  love  for  her  dat  hed  made  'im  stan'  fust 
at  school  an'  collige,  an'  hed  kep'  'im  good  an' 
pure ;  an'  now  he  wuz  gwine  'way,  wouldn'  she 
let  it  be  like  'twuz  in  ole  times,  an'  ef  he  come 


MARSE   CHAN  27 

back  from  de  war  wouldn'  she  try  to  think  on  him 
ez  she  use'  to  when  she  wuz  a  little  guirl  ? 

"  Marse  Chan  he  had  done  been  talkin'  so  seri 
ous,  he  hed  done  tek  Miss  Anne'  han',  an'  wuz 
lookin'  down  in  her  face  like  he  wuz  list'nin'  wid 
his  eyes. 

"  Arfter  a  minit  Miss  Anne  she  said  somethin', 
an'  Marse  Chan  he  cotch  her  urr  han'  an'  sez : 

"  '  But  if  you  love  me,  Anne  ? ' 

"  When  he  said  dat,  she  tu'ned  her  head  'way 
from  'im,  an'  wait'  a  minit,  an'  den  she  said  — 
right  clear: 

"  *  But  I  don'  love  yo'.  (Jes'  dem  th'ee  wuds  ! ) 
De  wuds  fall  right  slow  —  like  dirt  falls  out  a 
spade  on  a  coffin  when  yo's  buryin'  anybody,  an' 
seys,  '  Uth  to  uth.'  Marse  Chan  he  jes'  let  her 
hand  drap,  an'  he  stiddy  hisse'f  'g'inst  de  gate- 
pos'  an'  he  didn'  speak  torekly.  When  he  did 
speak,  all  he  sez  wuz : 

"  «  I  mus'  see  you  home  safe.' 

"  I  'clar,  marster,  I  didn'  know  'twuz  Marse 
Chan's  voice  tell  I  look  at  'im  right  good.  Well, 
she  wouldn'  let  'im  go  wid  her.  She  jes'  wrap' 
her  cloak  roun'  her  shoulders,  an'  wen'  'long  back 
by  herse'f,  widout  doin'  more'n  jes'  look  up  once 
at  Marse  Chan  leanin'  dyah  'g'inst  de  gate-pos'  in 
he  sodger  clo's,  wid  he  eyes  on  de  groun'.  She 
said  '  Good-by'  sort  o'  sorf,  an'  Marse  Chan,  wid 
out  lookin'  up,  shake  han's  wid  her,  an'  she  wuz 
done  gone  down  de  road.  Soon  ez  she  got  'mos' 
'roun  de  curve,  Marse  Chan  he  followed  her, 


28  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

keepin'  under  de  trees  so  ez  not  to  be  seen,  an'  I 
led  de  bosses  on  down  de  road  behine  'im.  He 
kep'  'long  behine  her  tell  she  wuz  safe  in  de 
house,  an'  den  he  come  an'  got  on  he  hoss,  an' 
we  all  come  home. 

"  Nex'  mawnin'  we  all  come  off  to  j'ine  de  army. 
An'  dey  wuz  a-drillin'  an'  a-drillin'  all  'bout  for  a 
while  an'  we  went  'long  wid  all  de  res'  o'  de  army, 
an'  I  went  wid  Marse  Chan  an'  clean  he  boots  an' 
look  arfter  de  tent,  an'  tek  keer  o'  him  an'  de 
hosses.  An'  Marse  Chan,  he  wan'  a  bit  like  he 
use'  to  be.  He  wuz  so  solum  an'  moanful  all  de 
time,  at  leas'  'cep'  when  dyah  wuz  gwine  to  be  a 
fight.  Den  he'd  peartin'  up,  an'  he  alwuz  ride  at 
de  head  o'  de  company,  'cause  he  wuz  tall ;  an'  hit 
wan'  on'y  in  battles  whar  all  his  company  wuz 
dat  he  went,  but  he  use'  to  volunteer  whenever 
de  cun'l  wanted  anybody  to  fine  out  anythin',  an' 
'twuz  so  dangersome  he  didn'  like  to  mek  one  man 
go  no  sooner'n  anurr,  yo'  know,  an'  ax'd  who'd 
volunteer.  He  'peared  to  like  to  go  prowlin' 
aroun'  'mong  dem  Yankees,  an'  he  use'  to  tek  me 
wid  'im  whenever  he  could.  Yes,  seh,  he  sut'n'y 
wuz  a  good  sowger !  He  didn'  mine  bullets  no 
more'n  he  did  so  many  draps  o'  rain.  But  I  use' 
to  be  pow'ful  skeered  sometimes.  It  jes'  use'  to 
'pear  like  fun  to  him.  In  camp  he  use'  to  be  so 
sorrerful  he'd  hardly  open  he  mouf.  You'd  a' 
tho't  he  wuz  seekin',  he  used  to  look  so  moanful ; 
but  jes'  le'  'im  git  into  danger,  an'  he  use'  to  be 
like  old  times — jolly  an' laughin' like  when  he 
wuz  a  boy. 


MARSE   CHAN  29 

"  When  Cap'n  Gordon  got  he  leg  shoot  off,  dey 
mek  Marse  Chan  cap'n  on  de  spot,  'cause  one  o' 
de  lieutenants  got  kilt  de  same  day,  an'  turr  one 
(named  Mr.  Ronny)  wan'  no  'count,  an'  all  de 
company  said  Marse  Chan  wuz  de  man. 

"An'  Marse  Chan  he  wuz  jes'  de  same.  He 
didn'  nuver  mention  Miss  Anne's  name,  but  I 
knowed  he  wuz  thinkin'  on  her  constant.  One 
night  he  wuz  settin'  by  de  fire  in  camp,  an'  Mr. 
Ronny — he  was  de  secon'  lieutenant  —  got  to 
talkin'  'bout  ladies,  an'  he  say  all  sorts  o'  things 
'bout  'em,  an'  I  see  Marse  Chan  kinder  lookin' 
mad;  an'  de  lieutenant  mention  Miss  Anne's 
name.  He  hed  been  courtin'  Miss  Anne  'bout  de 
time  Marse  Chan  fit  de  duil  vvid  her  pa,  an'  Miss 
Anne  hed  kicked  'im,  dough  he  wuz  mighty  rich, 
'cause  he  warn'  nuthin'  but  a  half-strainer,  an' 
'cause  she  like  Marse  Chan,  I  believe,  dough  she 
didn'  speak  to  'im  ;  an'  Mr.  Ronny  he  got  drunk, 
an'  'cause  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin  tole  'im  not  to  come 
dyah  no  more,  he  got  mighty  mad.  An'  dat  even- 
in'  I'se  tellin'  yo'  'bout,  he  wuz  talkin',  an'  he 
mention  Miss  Anne's  name.  I  see  Marse  Chan 
tu'n  he  eye  'roun'  on  'im  an'  keep  it  on  he  face, 
and  pres'n'y  Mr.  Ronny  said  he  wuz  gwine  hev 
some  fun  dyah  yit.  He  didn'  mention  her  name 
dat  time ;  but  he  said  dey  wuz  all  on  'em  a  parecel 
of  stuck-up  'risticrats,  an'  her  pa  wan'  no  gent'- 

man  anyway,  an' 1  don'  know  what  he  wuz 

gwine  say  (he  nuver  said  it),  fur  ez  he  got  dat  far 
Marse  Chan  riz  up  an'  hit  'im  a  crack,  an'  he  fall 
like  he  hed  been  hit  \vid  a  fence-rail.  He  chal- 


30  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

lenged  Marse  Chan  to  fight  a  dull,  an'  Marse  Chan 
he  excepted  de  challenge,  an'  dey  wuz  gwine  fight; 
but  some  on  'em  tole  'im  Marse  Chan  wan'  gwine 
mek  a  present  o'  him  to  his  fam'ly,  an'  he  got 
somebody  to  bre'k  up  de  duil;  twan*  nuthin' 
dough,  but  he  wuz  'fred  to  fight  Marse  Chan.  An' 
purty  soon  he  lef  de  comp'ny. 

"  Well,  I  got  one  o'  de  gent'mens  to  write  Judy 
a  letter  for  me,  an'  I  tole  her  all  'bout  de  fight,  an' 
how  Marse  Chan  knock  Mr.  Ronny  over  fur 
speakin'  discontemptuous  o'  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin, 
an'  I  tole  her  how  Marse  Chan  wuz  a-dyin'  fur 
love  o'  Miss  Anne.  An'  Judy  she  gits  Miss  Anne 
to  read  de  letter  fur  her.  Den  Miss  Anne  she 
tells  her  pa,  an' —  you  mind,  Judy  tells  me  all  dis 
arfterwards,  an'  she  say  when  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin 
hear  'bout  it,  he  wuz  settin'  on  de  poach,  an'  he 
set  still  a  good  while,  an'  den  he  sey  to  hisse'f : 

"'Well,  he  earn'  he'p  bein'  a  Whig.' 

"  An'  den  he  gits  up  an'  walks  up  to  Miss  Anne 
an'  looks  at  her  right  hard;  an'  Miss  Anne  she 
hed  done  tu'n  away  her  haid  an'  wuz  makin'  out 
she  wuz  fixin'  a  rose-bush  'g'inst  de  poach;  an' 
when  her  pa  kep'  lookin'  at  her,  her  face  got  jes' 
de  color  o'  de  roses  on  de  bush,  and  pres'n'y  her 
pa  sez : 

"  «  Anne !  ' 

"  An'  she  tu'ned  roun',  an'  he  sez  : 

"  Do  yo'  want  'im  ?  ' 

"  An'  she  sez,  '  Yes,'  an'  put  her  head  on  he 
shoulder  an'  begin  to  cry;  an'  he  sez: 


MARSE   CHAN  31 

"  '  Well,  I  won't  stan'  between  yo'  no  longer. 
Write  to  'im  an'  say  so.' 

"We  didn'  know  nuthin'  'bout  dis  den.  We 
wuz  a-fightin'  an  a-fightin'  all  dat  time ;  an'  come 
one  day  a  letter  to  Marse  Chan,  an'  I  see  'im  start 
to  read  it  in  his  tent,  an'  he  face  hit  look  so  cu'ious, 
an'  he  ban's  trembled  so  I  couldn'  mek  out  what 
wuz  de  matter  wid  'im.  An'  he  fol'  de  letter  up 
an'  wen'  out  an'  wen'  way  down'  hine  de  camp,  an' 
stayed  dyah  'bout  nigh  a  hour.  Well,  seh,  I  wuz 
on  de  lookout  for  'im  when  he  come  back,  an',  fo' 
Gord !  ef  he  face  didn'  shine  like  a  angel's  1  I 
say  to  myse'f,  '  Um'm !  ef  de  glory  o'  Gord  ain' 
done  shine  on  'im  !  '  An'  what  yo'  'spose  'twuz  ? 

"  He  tuk  me  wid  'im  dat  evenin',  an'  he  tell  me 
he  hed  done  git  a  letter  from  Miss  Anne,  an'  Marse 
Chan  he  eyes  look  like  gre't  big  stars,  an'  he  face 
wuz  jes'  like  'twuz  dat  mawnin'  when  de  sun  riz 
up  over  de  low  groun',  an'  I  see  'im  stan'in'  dyah 
wid  de  pistil  in  he  han',  lookin*  at  it,  an'  not 
knowin'  but  what  it  mout  be  de  lars'  time,  an' 
he  done  mek  up  he  mine  not  to  shoot  ole  Cun'l 
Chahmb'lin  fur  Miss  Anne's  sake,  what  writ  'im 
de  letter. 

"  He  fol'  de  letter  wha'  was  in  his  han'  up,  an' 
put  it  in  he  inside  pocket  —  right  dyah  on  de  lef 
side ;  an'  den  he  tole  me  he  tho't  mebbe  we  wuz 
gwine  hev  some  warm  wuk  in  de  nex'  two  or 
th'ee  days,  an'  arfter  dat  ef  Gord  speared  'im  he'd 
git  a  leave  o'  absence  fur  a  few  days,  an'  we'd  go 
home. 


32  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

"  Well,  dat  night  de  orders  come,  an'  we  all  hed 
to  git  over  to'ds  Romney ;  an'  we  rid  all  night  till 
'bout  light ;  an'  we  halted  right  on  a  little  creek, 
an'  we  stayed  dyah  till  mos'  breakfas'  time,  an'  I 
see  Marse  Chan  set  down  on  de  groun'  'hine  a 
bush  an'  read  dat  letter  over  an'  over.  I  watch 
'im,  an'  de  battle  wuz  a-goin'  on,  but  we  had  or 
ders  to  stay  'hine  de  hill,  an'  ev'y  now  an'  den  de 
bullets  would  cut  de  limbs  o'  de  trees  right  over 
us,  an'  one  o'  dem  big  shells  what  goes  « Awhar — 
awhar — awhar! '  would  fall  right  'mong  us ;  but 
Marse  Chan  he  didn'  mine  it  no  mo'n  nuttin' ! 
Den  it  'peared  to  git  closer  an'  thicker,  and  Marse 
Chan  he  calls  me,  an'  I  crep'  up,  an'  he  sez : 

" '  Sam,  we'se  goin'  to  win  in  dis  battle,  an'  den 
we'll  go  home  an'  git  married ;  an'  I'se  goin'  home 
wid  a  star  on  my  collar. '  An'  den  he  sez, « Ef  I'm 
wounded,  kyah  me  home,  yo'  hear  ?  '  An'  I  sez, 
'Yes,  Marse  Chan.' 

"  Well,  jes'  den  dey  blowed  '  boots  an'  saddles,' 
an'  we  mounted;  an'  de  orders  come  to  ride  'roun' 
de  slope,  an'  Marse  Chan's  comp'ny  wuz  de  secon', 
an'  when  we  got  'roun'  dyah,  we  wuz  right  in  it. 
Hit  wuz  de  wust  place  uver  dis  nigger  got  in  ! 
An'  dey  said,  '  Charge  'em !  '  an'  my  king !  ef 
uver  you  see  bullets  fly,  dey  did  dat  day.  Hit 
wuz  jes'  like  hail;  an'  we  wen'  down  de  slope  (I 
long  wid  de  res')  an'  up  de  hill  right  to'ds  de 
cannons,  an'  de  fire  wuz  so  strong  dyah  (dey  hed 
a  whole  rigiment  o'  infintrys  layin'  down  dyah 
onder  de  cannons)  our  lines  sort  o'  broke  an'  stop ; 


MARSE    CHAN  33 

de  cun'l  was  kilt,  an'  I  b'lieve  dey  wuz  jes'  'bout 
to  bre'k  all  to  pieces,  when  Marse  Chan  rid  up  'an 
cotch  hoi'  de  fleg  and  hollers, '  Foller  me !  '  an' 
rid  strainin'  up  de  hill  'mong  de  cannons.  I  seen 
'im  when  he  went,  de  sorrel  four  good  lengths 
ahead  o'  ev'y  urr  hoss,  jes'  like  he  use'  to  be  in  a 
fox-hunt,  an'  de  whole  rigiment  right  arfter  'im. 
Yo'  ain'  nuver  hear  thunder !  Fust  thing  I 
knowed,  de  roan  roll'  head  over  heels  an'  flung 
me  up  'g'inst  de  bank  like  yo'  chuck  a  nubbin 
over  'g'inst  de  foot  o'  de  corn  pile.  An  dat's 
what  kep'  me  from  bein'  kilt,  I  'spects.  Judy  she 
say  she  think  'twuz  Providence,  but  I  think  'twuz 
de  bank.  O'  co'se,  Providence  put  de  bank  dyah, 
but  how  come  Providence  nuver  saved  Marse 
Chan  ?  When  I  look  'roun',  de  roan  wuz  layin' 
dyah  by  me,  stone  dead,  wid  a  cannon-ball  gone 
'mos'  th'oo  him,  an  our  men  hed  done  swep'  dem 
on  t'urr  side  from  de  top  o'  de  hill.  'Twan  mo'n 
a  minit,  de  sorrel  come  gallupin'  back  wid  his 
mane  flyin',  an'  de  rein  hangin'  down  on  one  side 
to  his  knee.  '  Dyah  ! '  says  I,  '  fo'  Gord !  I  'specks 
dey  done  kill  Marse  Chan,  an'  I  promised  to  tek 
care  on  him.' 

"  I  jumped  up  an'  run  over  de  bank,  an'  dyah, 
wid  a  whole  lot  o'  dead  mens,  an'  some  not  dead  yit, 
onder  one  o'  de  guns  wid  de  fleg  still  in  he  han', 
an'  a  bullet  right  th'oo  he  body,  lay  Marse  Chan. 
I  tu'n  'im  over  an'  call  'im,  '  Marse  Chan !  '  but 
'twan'  no  use,  he  was  done  gone  home,  sho' 
'nuff. 


34  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

"  I  pick'  'im  up  in  my  arms  wid  de  fleg  still  in  he 
ban's,  an'  toted  'im  back  jes'  like  I  did  dat  day  when 
he  wuz  a  baby,  an'  ole  marster  gin'  'im  to  me  in  my 
arms,  an'  sey  he  could  trus'  me,  an'  tell  me  to  tek 
keer  on  'im  long  ez  he  lived.  I  kyah'd  'im  'way  oft" 
de  battlefiel'  out  de  way  o'  de  balls,  an'  I  laid  'im 
down  onder  a  big  tree  till  I  could  git  somebody  to 
ketch  de  sorrel  for  me.  He  was  cotched  arfter  a 
•while,  an'  I  lied  some  money,  so  I  got  some  pine 
plank  an'  made  a  coffin  dat  evenin',  an'  wrapt 
Marse  Chan's  body  up  in  de  fleg,  an'  put  'im  in  de 
coffin ;  but  I  didn'  nail  de  top  on  strong,  'cause  I 
knowed  ole  missis'  wan'  see  'im  ;  an'  I  got  a'  am 
bulance  an'  set  out  for  home  dat  night.  We 
reached  dyah  de  nex'  evein',  arfter  travellin'  all 
dat  night  an'  all  nex'  day. 

"  Hit  'peared  like  somethin'  hed  tole  ole  missis 
we  wuz  comin'  so ;  for  when  we  got  home  she  wuz 
waitin'  for  us  —  done  drest  up  in  her  best  Sunday- 
clo'es,  an'  stan'n'  at  de  head  o'  de  big  steps,  an' 
ole  marster  settin'  dyah  bline  in  his  big  cheer  — 
ez  we  druv  up  de  hill  to'ds  de  house,  I  drivin'  de 
ambulance  an'  de  sorrel  leadin'  long  behine  wid 
de  stirrups  crost  over  de  saddle. 

"  She  come  down  to  de  gate  to  meet  us.  We 
took  de  coffin  out  de  ambulance  an'  kyah'd  it  right 
into  de  big  parlor  wid  de  pictures  in  it,  whar  dey 
use'  to  dance  in  ole  times  when  Marse  Chan  wuz 
a  schoolboy,  an'  Miss  Anne  Chahmb'lin  use'  to 
come  over,  an*  go  wid  ole  missis  into  her  cham 
ber  an'  tek  her  things  off.  In  dyah  we  laid  de 


MARSE   CHAN 


35 


coffin  on  two  o'  de  cheers,  an'  ole  missis  nuver 
said  a  wud ;  she  jes'  looked  so  ole  an'  white. 

"  When  I  had  tell  'em  all  'bout  it,  I  tu'ned  right 
'roun'  an'  rid  over  to  Cun'l  Chahmb'lin's,  'cause  I 
knowed  dat  wuz  what  Marse  Chan  he  'd  'a'  wanted 
me  to  do.  I  didn'  tell  nobody  whar  I  was  gwine, 
'cause  yo'  know,  none  on  'em  hadn'  nuver  speak 
to  Miss  Anne,  not  sence  de  duil,  an'  dey  didn' 
know  'bout  de  letter. 

"When  I  rid  up  in  de  yard,  dyah  wuz  Miss 
Anne  a-stan'in'  on  de  poach  watchin'  me  ez  I  rid 
up.  I  tied  my  hoss  to  de  fence,  an'  walked  up  de 
parf.  She  knowed  by  de  way  I  walked  dyah  wuz 
som'thin'  de  motter,  an'  she  wuz  mighty  pale.  I 
drapt  my  cap  down  on  de  een'  o'  de  steps  an'  went 
up.  She  nuver  opened  her  mouf ;  jes'  stan'  right 
still  an'  keep  her  eyes  on  my  face.  Fust,  I 
couldn'  speak ;  den  I  cotch  my  voice,  an'  I  say, 
'  Marse  Chan,  he  done  got  he  furlough.' 

"  Her  face  was  mighty  ashy,  an'  she  sort  o' 
shook,  but  she  didn'  fall.  She  tu'ned  roun'  an' 
said,  '  Git  me  de  ker'ige  !  '  Dat  wuz  all. 

"  When  de  ker'ige  come  roun'  she  hed  put  on 
her  bonnet,  an'  wuz  ready.  Ez  she  got  in,  she 
sey  to  me,  '  Hev  yo'  brought  him  home  ?  '  an'  we 
drove  'long,  I  ridin'  behine. 

"  When  we  got  home,  she  got  out,  an'  walked 
up  de  big  walk  —  up  to  de  poach  by  herse'f. 

"  Ole  missis  hed  done  fin'  de  letter  in  Marse 
Chan's  pocket,  wid  de  love  in  it,  while  I  wuz  'way, 
an'  she  wuz  a-waitin'  on  de  poach.  Dey  sey  dat 


36  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

wuz  de  fust  time  ole  missis  cry  when  she  find  de 
letter,  an'  dat  she  sut'n'y  did  cry  over  hit,  pint- 
edly. 

"  Well,  seh,  Miss  Anne  she  walks  right  up  de 
steps,  mos'  up  to  ole  missis  stan'in'  dyah  on  de 
poach,  an'  jes'  falls  right  down  mos'  to  her,  on  her 
knees  fust,  an'  den  flat  on  her  face  right  on  de  flo', 
ketchin'  at  ole  missis'  dress  wid  her  two  han's  —  so. 

"  Ole  missis  stood  for  'bout  a  minit  lookin' 
down  at  her,  an'  den  she  drapt  down  on  de  flo' 
by  her,  an'  took  her  in  bofe  her  arms. 

"  I  couldn'  see,  I  wuz  cryin'  so  myse'f,  an'  ev'y- 
body  wuz  cryin'.  But  dey  went  in  arfter  a  while 
in  de  parlor,  an'  shet  de  do' ;  an'  I  heahd  'em 
say,  Miss  Anne  she  tuk  de  coffin  in  her  arms  an' 
kissed  it,  an'  kissed  Marse  Chan,  an'  call'  'im  by 
his  name,  an'  her  darlin',  an'  ole  missis  lef  her 
cryin'  in  dyah  tell  some  on  'em  went  in,  an'  found 
her  done  faint  on  de  flo'. 

"  Judy  she  tell  me  she  heah  Miss  Anne  when 
she  axed  ole  missis  mout  she  wear  mo'nin'  fur  'im. 
I  don'  know  how  dat  is  ;  but  when  we  buried  'im 
nex'  day,  she  wuz  de  one  whar  walked  arfter  de 
coffin,  holdin'  ole  marster,  an'  ole  missis  she  walked 
next  to  'em. 

"  Well,  we  buried  Marse  Chan  dyah  in  de  ole 
grabeyard,  wid  de  fleg  wrapped  roun'  'im,  an'  he 
face  lookin'  like  it  did  dat  mawnin*  down  in  de 
low  groun's,  wid  de  new  sun  shinin'  on  it  so 
peaceful. 

"  Miss  Anne  she  nuver  went  home  to  stay  arf 
ter  dat;  she  stay  wid  ole  marster  an'  ole  missis  ez 


MARSE   CHAN  37 

long  ez  dey  lived.  Dat  warn'  so  mighty  long, 
'cause  ole  marster  he  died  dat  Fall,  when  dey  wuz 
fallerin'  fur  wheat  —  I  had  jes'  married  Judy  den 
—  an'  ole  missis  she  warn'  long  behine  him.  We 
buried  her  by  him  next  summer.  Miss  Anne  she 
went  in  de  hospitals  toreckly  after  ole  missis 
died  ;  an'  jes  b'fo'  Richmond  fell  she  come  home 
sick  wid  de  fever.  Yo'  nuver  wud  'a'  knowed  her 
fur  de  same  ole  Miss  Anne.  She  wuz  light  ez  a 
piece  o'  peth,  an'  so  white,  'cep'  her  eyes  an'  her 
sorrel  hyah,  an'  she  kep'  on  gittin'  whiter  an' 
weaker.  Judy  she  sut'n'y  did  nuss  her  faithful. 
But  she  nuver  got  no  betterment !  De  fever  an' 
Marse  Chan's  bein'  kilt  hed  done  strain  her,  an' 
she  died  jes'  fo'  de  folks  wuz  sot  free. 

"  So  we  buried  Miss  Anne  right  by  Marse  Chan, 
in  a  place  whar  ole  missis  hed  tole  us  to  leave,  an' 
dey's  bofe  on  'em  sleep  side  by  side  over  in  de 
ole  grabeyard  at  home. 

"  An'  will  yo'  please  tell  me,  marster  ?  Dey 
tells  me  dat  de  Bible  sey  dyah  won'  be  marryin' 
nor  givin'  in  marriage  in  heaven,  but  I  don'  b'lieve 
it  signifies  dat  —  does  you?" 

I  gave  him  the  comfort  of  my  earnest  belief  in 
some  other  interpretation,  together  with  several 
spare  "  eighteen-pences,"  as  he  called  them,  for 
which  he  seemed  humbly  grateful.  And  as  I  rode 
away  I  heard  him  calling  across  the  fence  to  his 
wife,  who  was  standing  in  the  door  of  a  small 
whitewashed  cabin,  near  which  we  had  been  stand 
ing  for  some  time : 

"  Judy,  have  Marse  Chan's  dawg  got  home  ?  " 


"UNC  EDINBURG'S  DROWNDIN' 


«UNC' EDINBURGH  DROWNDIN'" 


A  Plantation  Echo 


1ELL,  suh,  dat's  a  fac  — dat's  what 
Marse  George  al'ays  said.  'Tis  hard 
to  spile  Christmas  anyways." 

The  speaker  was  "  Unc'  Edinburg," 
the  driver  from  Werrowcoke,  where  I  was  going 
to  spend  Christmas ;  the  time  was  Christmas  Eve, 
and  the  place  the  muddiest  road  in  eastern  Vir 
ginia —  a  measure  which,  I  feel  sure,  will,  to  those 
who  have  any  experience,  establish  its  claim  to 
distinction. 

A  half-hour  before  he  had  met  me  at  the  station, 
the  queerest-looking,  raggedest  old  darky  con 
ceivable,  brandishing  a  cedar-staffed  whip  of  enor 
mous  proportions  in  one  hand,  and  clutching  in 
the  other  a  calico  letter-bag  with  a  twisted  string; 
and  with  the  exception  of  a  brief  interval  of  tem 
porary  suspicion  on  his  part,  due  to  the  unfort 
unate  fact  that  my  luggage  consisted  of  only  a 


42  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

hand-satchel  instead  of  a  trunk,  we  had  been 
steadily  progressing  in  mutual  esteem. 

"  Dee's  a  boy  standin'  by  my  mules ;  I  got  de 
ker'idge  heah  for  you,"  had  been  his  first  remark 
on  my  making  myself  known  to  him.  "  Mistis 
say  as  how  you  might  bring  a  trunk." 

I  at  once  saw  my  danger,  and  muttered  some 
thing  about  "  a  short  visit,"  but  this  only  made 
matters  worse. 

"  Dee  don'  nobody  nuver  pay  short  visits  dyah," 
he  said,  decisively,  and  I  fell  to  other  tactics. 

"  You  couldn'  spile  Christmas  den  noways,"  he 
repeated,  reflectingly,  while  his  little  mules  trudged 
knee-deep  through  the  mud.  "  'Twuz  Christmas 
den,  sho'  'nough,"  he  added,  the  fires  of  memory 
smouldering,  and  then,  as  they  blazed  into  sudden 
flame,  he  asserted,  positively :  "  Dese  heah  free- 
issue  niggers  don'  know  what  Christmas  is.  Hawg 
meat  an'  pop  crackers  don'  meek  Christmas.  Hit 
tecks  ole  times  to  meek  a  sho'-'nough,  tyahin'- 
down  Christmas.  Gord  !  I's  seen  'em  !  But  de 
wuss  Christmas  I  ever  seen  tunned  out  de  best  in 
de  een,"  he  added,  with  sudden  warmth,  "  an'  dat 
wuz  de  Christmas  me  an'  Marse  George  an'  Rev 
eller  all  got  drownded  down  at  Braxton's  Creek. 
You's  hearn  'bout  dat  ?  " 

As  he  was  sitting  beside  me  in  solid  flesh  and 
blood,  and  looked  as  little  ethereal  in  his  old  hat 
and  patched  clothes  as  an  old  oak  stump  would 
have  done,  and  as  Colonel  Staunton  had  made  a 
world-wide  reputation  when  he  led  his  regiment 


"UNC'  EDINBURG'S  DROWNDIN'"       43 

through  the  Chickahominy  thickets  against  Mc- 
Clellan's  intrenchments,  1  was  forced  to  confess 
that  I  had  never  been  so  favored,  but  would  like 
to  hear  about  it  now  ;  and  with  a  hitch  of  the  lap 
blanket  under  his  outside  knee,  and  a  supereroga 
tory  jerk  of  the  reins,  he  began : 

"  Well,  you  know,  Marse  George  was  jes'  eigh 
teen  when  he  went  to  college.  I  went  wid  him, 
'cause  me  an'  him  wuz  de  same  age  ;  I  was  born 
like  on  a  Sat'day  in  de  Christmas,  an'  he  wuz  born 
in  de  new  year  on  a  Chuesday,  an'  my  mammy 
nussed  us  bofe  at  one  breast.  Dat's  de  reason 
maybe  huccome  we  took  so  to  one  nurr.  He 
sutney  set  a  heap  o'  sto'  by  me ;  an'  I  am'  nuver 
see  nobody  yit  wuz  good  to  me  as  Marse 
George." 

The  old  fellow,  after  a  short  reverie,  went  on : 

"  Well,  we  growed  up  togerr,  jes  as  to  say  two 
stalks  in  one  hill.  We  cotch  ole  hyahs  togerr,  an' 
we  hunted  'possums  togerr,  an'  'coons.  Lord! 
he  wuz  a  climber !  I  'member  a  fight  he  had  one 
night  up  in  de  ve'y  top  of  a  big  poplar  tree  wid  a 
coon,  whar  he  done  gone  up  after,  an'  he  flung  he 
hat  over  he  head ;  an'  do'  de  varmint  leetle  mo' 
tyah  him  all  to  pieces,  he  fotch  him  down  dat  tree 
'live;  an'  me  an'  him  had  him  at  Christmas. 
'Coon  meat  mighty  good  when  dee  fat,  you 
know  ?  " 

As  this  was  a  direct  request  for  my  judgment,  I 
did  not  have  the  moral  courage  to  raise  an  issue, 
although  my  views  on  the  subject  of  'coon  meat 


44  W  OLE    VIRGINIA 

are  well  known  to  my  family ;  so  I  grunted  some 
thing  which  I  doubt  not  he  took  for  assent,  and  he 
proceeded : 

"  Dee  warn'  nuttin  he  didn'  lead  de  row  in  ;  he 
wuz  de  bes'  swimmer  I  ever  see,  an'  he  handled  a 
skiff  same  as  a  fish  handle  heself.  An'  I  wuz  wid 
him  constant ;  wharever  you  see  Marse  George, 
dyah  Edinburg  sho',  jes'  like  he  shadow.  So 
twuz,  when  he  went  to  de  university;  'tvvarn' 
nuttin  would  do  but  I  got  to  go  too.  Marster  he 
didn'  teck  much  to  de  notion,  but  Marse  George 
wouldn'  have  it  no  urr  way,  an'  co'se  mistis  she 
teck  he  side.  So  I  went  'long  as  he  body-servant 
to  teck  keer  on  him  an'  help  meek  him  a  gent'man. 
An'  he  wuz,  too.  From  time  he  got  dyah  tell  he 
cum  'way  he  wuz  de  head  man. 

"  Dee  warn'  but  one  man  dyah  didn'  compli 
ment  him,  an'  dat  wuz  Mr.  Darker.  But  he  warn' 
nuttin  !  not  dat  he  didn'  come  o'  right  good  fam- 
bly  —  'cep'  dee  politics ;  but  he  wuz  sutney  pitted, 
jes'  like  sometimes  you  see  a  weevly  runty  pig  in 
a  right  good  litter.  Well,  Mr.  Darker  he  al'ays 
'ginst  Marse  George;  he  hate  me  an  him  bofe, 
an'  he  sutney  act  mischeevous  todes  us ;  'cause  he 
know  he  warn'  as  we  all.  De  Stauntons  dee  wuz 
de  popularitiest  folks  in  Virginia;  an'  dee  wuz 
high-larnt  besides.  So  when  Marse  George  run 
for  de  medal,  an'  wuz  to  meek  he  gret  speech,  Mr. 
Darker  he  speak  'ginst  him.  Dat's  what  Marse 
George  whip  him  'bout.  'Ain'  nobody  nuver  told 
you  'bout  dat  ?  " 


"UNC*  EDI N BURG'S  DROWNDIN"'        45 

I  again  avowed  my  misfortune ;  and  although 
it  manifestly  aroused  new  doubts,  he  worked 
it  off  on  the  mules,  and  once  more  took  up  his 
story : 

"  Well,  you  know,  dee  had  been  speakin'  'ginst 
one  nurr  ev'y  Sat'dy  night ;  and  ev'ybody  knowed 
Marse  George  vvuz  de  bes'  speaker,  but  dee  give 
him  one  mo'  sho',  an'  dee  was  bofe  gwine  spread 
deeselves,  an'  dee  wuz  two  urr  gent'mens  also 
gwine  speak.  An'  dat  night  when  Mr.  Darker 
got  up  he  meek  sich  a  fine  speech  ev'ybody  wuz 
s'prised ;  an'  some  on  'em  say  Mr.  Darker  done 
beat  Marse  George.  But,  shuh !  I  know  better'n 
dat ;  an'  Marse  George  face  look  so  curious ;  but, 
suh,  when  he  riz  I  knowed  der  wuz  somen  gwine 
happen  —  I  wuz  leanin'  in  de  winder.  He  jes 
step  out  in  front  an'  throwed  up  he  head  like  a 
horse  wid  a  rank  kyurb  on  him,  and  den  he  begin ; 
an'  twuz  jes  like  de  river  when  hit  gits  out  he 
bank.  He  swep'  ev'ything.  When  he  fust  open 
he  mouf  I  knowed  twuz  comin';  he  face  wuz 
pale,  an'  he  wuds  tremble  like  a  fiddle-string,  but 
he  eyes  wuz  blazin',  an'  in  a  minute  he  wuz  jes 
reshin'.  He  voice  soun'  like  a  bell ;  an'  he  jes 
wallered  dat  turr  man,  an'  wared  him  out ;  an' 
when  he  set  down  dee  all  yelled  an'  hollered  so 
you  couldn*  heah  you'  ears.  Gent'mans,  twuz 
royal ! 

"  Den  dee  tuck  de  vote,  an'  Marse  George  got 
it  munanimous,  an'  dee  all  hollered  agin,  all  'cep' 
a  few  o'  Mr.  Darker's  friends.  An'  Mr.  Darker 


46  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

he  wuz  de  second.  An'  den  dee  broke  up.  An' 
jes  den  Marse  George  walked  thoo  de  crowd 
straight  up  to  him,  an'  lookin'  him  right  in  de 
eyes,  says  to  him,  'You  stole  dat  speech  you  made 
to-night.'  Well,  suh,  you  ought  to  'a  hearn  'em  ; 
hit  soun'  like  a  mill-dam.  You  couldn'  heah 
nuttin  'cep'  roarin',  an'  you  couldn'  see  nuttin  'cep' 
shovin'.  But,  big  as  he  wuz,  Marse  George  beat 
him ;  an'  when  dee  pull  him  off,  do'  he  face  wuz 
mighty  pale,  he  stan'  out  befo'  'em  all,  dem  whar 
wuz  'ginst  him,  an'  all,  jes  as  straight  as  an  arrow, 
an'  say:  'Dat  speech  wuz  written  an'  printed 
years  ago  by  somebody  or  nurr  in  Congress,  an' 
this  man  stole  it ;  had  he  beat  me  only,  I  should 
not  have  said  one  word ;  but  as  he  has  beaten 
others,  I  shall  show  him  up !  '  Gord,  suh,  he 
voice  wuz  clear  as  a  game  rooster.  I  sutney  wuz 
proud  on  him. 

"  He  did  show  him  up,  too,  but  Mr.  Darker  ain' 
wait  to  see  it ;  he  lef '  dat  night.  An'  Marse  George 
he  wuz  de  popularitiest  gent'man  at  dat  university. 
He  could  handle  dem  students  dyah  same  as  a 
man  handle  a  hoe. 

"  Well,  twuz  de  next  Christmas  we  meet  Miss 
Charlotte  an'  Nancy.  Mr.  Braxton  invite  we  all 
to  go  down  to  spen'  Christmas  wid  him  at  he 
home.  An'  sich  a  time  as  we  had ! 

"  We  got  dyah  Christmas  Eve  night — dis  very 
night — jes  befo'  supper,  an'  jes  natchelly  froze  to 
death,"  he  pursued,  dealing  in  his  wonted  hyper 
bole,  "  an'  we  jes  had  time  to  git  a  apple  toddy  or 


"L'NC'   EDINBURGH  DROWND1N'"        47 

two  when  supper  was  ready,  an'  wud  come  dat 
dee  wuz  waitin'  in  de  hall.  I  had  done  fix  Marse 
George  up  gorgeousome,  I  tell  you;  an  when 
he  walk  down  dem  stairs  in  dat  s waller- tail  coat, 
an'  dem  paten'-leather  pumps  on,  dee  warn  nay 
one  dyah  could  tetch  him;  he  looked  like  he 
own  'em  all.  I  jes  rest  my  mind.  I  seen  him 
when  he  shake  hands  wid  'em  all  roun',  an'  I  say, 
'  Um-m-m  !  he  got  'em.' 

"  But  he  ain'  teck  noticement  o'  none  much  tell 
Miss  Charlotte  come.  She  didn'  live  dyah,  had 
jes  come  over  de  river  dat  evenin'  from  her  home, 
'bout  ten  miles  off,  to  spen'  Christmas  like  we  all, 
an'  she  come  down  de  stairs  jes  as  Marse  George 
finish  shakin'  hands.  I  seen  he  eye  light  on  her 
as  she  come  down  de  steps  smilin',  wid  her  dim 
blue  dress  trainin'  behind  her,  an'  her  little  blue 
foots  peepin'  out  so  pretty,  an'  holdin'  a  little 
hankcher,  lookin'  like  a  spider-web,  in  one  hand, 
an'  a  gret  blue  fan  in  turr,  spread  out  like  a  pea 
cock  tail,  an'  jes  her  roun'  arms  an'  th'oat  white, 
an'  her  gret  dark  eyes  lightin'  up  her  face.  I  say, 
'  Dyah  'tis !  '  and  when  de  ole  Cun'l  stan'  aside  an' 
interduce  'em,  an'  Marse  George  step  for'ard  an' 
meek  he  grand  bow,  an'  she  sort  o'  swing  back 
an'  gin  her  curtchy,  wid  her  dress  sort  o'  dammed 
up  'ginst  her,  an'  her  arms  so  white,  an'  her  face 
sort  o'  sunsetty,  I  say,  '  Yes,  Lord  !  Edinburg, 
dyah  you  mistis.'  Marse  George  look  like  he 
think  she  done  come  down  right  from  de  top  o'  de 
blue  sky  an'  bring  piece  on  it  wid  her.  He  ain' 


48  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

nuver  took  he  eyes  from  her  dat  night.  Dee 
glued  to  her,  mun  !  an'  she  —  well,  do'  she  mighty 
rosy,  an'  look  mighty  unconsarned,  she  sutney 
ain'  hender  him.  Hit  look  like  kyarn  nobody 
else  tote  dat  fan  an'  pick  up  dat  hankcher  skusin 
o'  him;  an'  after  supper,  when  dee  all  playin'  blind- 
man's-buff  in  de  hall  —  I  don'  know  how  twuz  — 
but  do'  she  jes  as  nimble  as  a  filly,  an'  her  ankle 
jes  as  clean,  an'  she  kin  git  up  her  dress  an'  dodge 
out  o'  de  way  o'  ev'ybody  else,  somehow  or  nurr 
she  kyarn  help  him  ketchin'  her  to  save  her  life ; 
he  al'ays  got  her  corndered;  an'  when  dee'd  git 
fur  apart,  dat  ain'  nuttin,  dee  jes  as  sure  to  come 
togerr  agin  as  water  is  whar  you  done  run  you 
hand  thoo.  An'  do'  he  kiss  ev'ybody  else  under 
de  mistletow,  'cause  dee  be  sort  o'  cousins,  he 
ain'  nuver  kiss  her,  nor  nobody  else  ain't  nurr, 
'cep'  de  ole  Cun'l.  I  wuz  standin'  down  at  de 
een  de  hall  wid  de  black  folks,  an'  I  notice  it  'tic'- 
lar,  'cause  I  done  meek  de  'quaintance  o'  Nancy ; 
she  wuz  Miss  Charlotte's  maid ;  a  mighty  likely 
young  gal  she  wuz  den,  an'  jes  as  impident  as  a 
fly.  She  see  it  too,  do'  she  ain'  'low  it. 

"  Fust  thing  I  know  I  seen  a  mighty  likely 
light-skinned  gal  standin'  dyah  by  me,  wid  her 
hyah  mos'  straight  as  white  folks,  an'  a  mighty 
good  frock  on,  an'  a  clean  apron,  an'  her  hand 
mos'  like  a  lady,  only  it  brown,  an'  she  keep  on 
'vidin'  her  eyes  twix  me  an'  Miss  Charlotte ;  when 
I  watchin'  Miss  Charlotte  she  watchin'  me,  an' 
when  I  steal  my  eye  'roun'  on  her  she  noticin' 


"UNC'  EDINBURGH  DROWNDIN'"        49 

Miss  Charlotte ;  an'  presney  I  sort  o'  sidle  'long- 
side  her,  an'  I  say,  '  Lady,  you  mighty  sprightly 
to-night.'  An'  she  say  she  'bleeged  to  be  sprightly, 
her  mistis  look  so  good;  an'  I  ax  her  which  one 
twuz,  an'  she  tell  me, '  Dat  queen  one  over  dyah,' 
an'  I  tell  her  dee's  a  king  dyah  too,  she  got  her 
eye  set  for ;  an'  when  I  say  her  mistis  tryin'  to  set 
her  Cap  for  Marse  George,  she  fly  up,  an'  say  she 
an'  her  mistis  don'  have  to  set  dee  cap  for  nobody ; 
dee  got  to  set  dee  cap  an'  all  dee  clo'es  for  dem, 
an'  den  dee  ain'  gwine  cotch  'em  cause  dee  ain' 
studyin'  'bout  no  up-country  folks  whar  dee  ain' 
nobody  know  nuttin  'bout. 

"  Well,  dat  oudaciousness  so  aggrivate  me,  I 
lite  into  dat  nigger  right  dyah.  I  tell  her  she  ain' 
been  nowhar  'tall  ef  she  don'  know  we  all ;  dat 
we  wuz  de  bes'  of  quality,  de  ve'y  top  de  pot;  an' 
den  I  tell  her  'bout  how  gret  we  wuz ;  how  de 
ker'idges  wuz  al'ays  hitched  up  night  an'  day,  an' 
niggers  jes  thick  as  weeds ;  an'  how  Unc'  Torm  he 
wared  he  swaller-tail  ev'y  day  when  he  wait  on  de 
table;  and  Marse  George  he  won'  wyah  a  coat 
mo'n  once  or  twice  anyways,  to  save  you  life. 
Oh !  I  sutney  'stonish  dat  nigger,  'cause  I  wuz 
teckin  up  for  de  fambly,  an'  I  meek  out  like  dee 
use  gold  up  home  like  urr  folks  use  wood,  an' 
sow  silver  like  urr  folks  sow  wheat ;  an'  when  I 
got  thoo  dee  wuz  all  on  'em  listenin',  an'  she  'lowed 
dat  Marse  George  he  were  ve'y  good,  sho  'nough, 
'ef  twarn  for  he  nigger;  but  I  ain'  tarrifyin'  my 
self  none  'bout  dat,'  cause  I  know  she  jes  projickin, 


50  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

an'  she  couldn'  help  bein'  impident  ef  you  wuz  to 
whup  de  frock  off  her  back. 

"Jes  den  dee  struck  up  de  dance.  Dee  had 
wheel  de  pianer  out  in  de  hall,  an'  somebody  say 
Jack  Forester  had  come  cross  de  river,  an'  all  on 
'em  say  dee  mus'  git  Jack;  an'  presney  he  come 
in  wid  he  fiddle,  grinnin'  and  scrapin',  'cause  he 
wuz  a  notable  fiddler,  do'  I  don'  think  he'  wuz 
equal  to  we  all's  Tubal,  an'  I  know  he  couldn' 
tech  Marse  George,  'cause  Marse  George  wuz  a 
natch  el  fiddler,  jes  like  'coons  is  natchel  pacers, 
an'  mules  an'  womens  is  natchel  kickers.  How- 
somever,  he  sutney  jucked  a  jig  sweet,  an'  when 
he  shake  dat  bow  you  couldn'  help  you  foot 
switchin'  a  leetle — not  ef  you  wuz  a  member  of 
de  chutch.  He  wuz  a  mighty  sinful  man,  Jack 
wuz,  an'  dat  fiddle  had  done  drawed  many  souls 
to  torment. 

"  Well,  in  a  minute  dee  wuz  all  flyin',  an'  Jack 
he  wuz  rockin'  like  boat  rockin'  on  de  water,  an' 
he  face  right  shiny,  an'  he  teef  look  like  ear  o' 
corn  he  got  in  he  mouf,  an'  he  big  foot  set  way  out 
keepin'  time,  an'  Marse  George  he  was  in  de  lead 
row  dyah  too ;  ev'y  chance  he  git  he  tunned  Miss 
Charlotte — 'petchel  motion,  right  hand  across,  an' 
cauliflower,  an'  croquette  —  dee  croquette  plenty 
o'  urrs,  but  I  notice  dee  ain'  nuver  fail  to  tun  one 
nurr,  an'  ev'y  tun  he  gin  she  wrappin'  de  chain 
roun'  him.  Once  when  dee  wuz  '  prominadin-all ' 
down  we  all's  een  o'  de  hall,  as  he  tunned  her 
somebody  step  on  her  dress  an'  to'  it.  I  heah  de 


"UNC'   EDIXBURG'S  DROWNDIN'"        51 

screech  o'  de  silk,  an'  Nancy  say,  '  O  Lord !  ' 
den  she  say,  '  Nem  mine !  now  I'll  git  it ! '  an* 
dee  stop  for  a  minute  for  Marse  George  to  pin 
't  up,  while  turrers  went  on,  an'  Marse  George 
wuz  down  on  he  knee,  an'  she  look  down  on  him 
mighty  sweet  out  her  eyes,  an'  say, '  Hit  don'  meek 
no  difference,'  an'  he  glance  up  an'  cotch  her  eye, 
an',  jes  'dout  a  wud,  he  tyah  a  gret  piece  right  out 
de  silk  an'  slipt  it  in  he  bosom,  an'  when  he  got 
up,  he  say,  right  low,  lookin'  in  her  eyes  real  deep, 
'  1  gwine  wyah  dis  at  my  weddin','  an'  she  jes 
look  sweet  as  candy  ;  an'  ef  Nancy  ever  wyah  dat 
frock  I  ain'  see  it. 

"  Den  presney  dee  wuz  talkin'  'bout  stoppin'. 
De  ole  Cun'l  say  hit  time  to  have  prars,  an'  dee 
wuz  beggin'  him  to  wait  a  leetle  while ;  an'  Jack 
Forester  lay  he  fiddle  down  nigh  Marse  George, 
an'  he  picked  't  up  an'  drawed  de  bow  'cross  it  jes 
to  try  it,  an'  den  jes  projickin'  he  struck  dat  chune 
'bout  'You'll  ermember  me.'  He  hadn'  mo'n 
tech  de  string  when  you  couldn'  heah  a  pin  drap. 
Marse  George  he  warn  noticin',  an'  he  jes  lay  he 
face  on  de  fiddle,  wid  he  eyes  sort  o'  half  shet,  an' 
drawed  her  out  like  he'd  do  some  nights  at  home 
in  dee  moonlight  on  de  gret  porch,  tell  on  a  sud 
den  he  looked  up  an'  cotch  Miss  Charlotte  eye 
leanin'  for'ards  so  earnest,  an'  all  on  'em  list'nin', 
an'  he  stopt,  an*  dee  all  clapt  dee  hands,  an'  he 
sudney  drapt  into  a  jig.  Jack  Forester  ain'  had 
to  play  no  mo'  dat  night.  Even  de  ole  Cun'l 
ketched  de  fever,  an'  he  stept  out  in  de  flo'  in  he 


53  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

long-tail  coat  an'  high  collar,  an'  knocked  'em  off 
de  '  Snow-bud  on  de  Ash-bank,'  an' '  Chicken  in  de 
Bread-tray,'  right  natchel. 

"  Oh,  he  could  jes  plank  'em  down ! 

"  Oh,  dat  wuz  a  Christmas  like  you  been  read 
'bout !  An'  twuz  hard  to  tell  which  gittin  cotch 
most,  Marse  George  or  me ;  'cause  dat  nigger  she 
jes  as  confusin'  as  Miss  Charlotte.  An'  she  sut- 
ney  wuz  sp'ilt  dem  days  ;  ev'y  nigger  on  dat  place 
got  he  eye  on  her,  an'  she  jes  az  oudacious  an'  ag- 
gravatin  as  jes  women s  kin  be. 

"  Dees  monsus  'ceivin'  critters,  womens  is,  jes 
as  onreliable  as  de  hind-leg  of  a  mule  ;  a  man  got 
to  watch  'em  all  de  time ;  you  kyarn  break  'em 
like  you  kin  horses. 

"  Now  dat  off  mule  dyah  "  (indicating,  by  a  lazy 
but  not  light  lash  of  his  whip  the  one  selected  for 
his  illustration),  "dee  ain'  no  countin'  on  her  at 
all;  she  go  'long  all  day,  or  maybe  a  week,  jes 
dat  easy  an'  sociable,  an'  fust  thing  you  know  you 
ain'  know  nuttin  she  done  knock  you  brains  out ; 
dee  ain'  no  'pendence  to  be  placed  in  'em  'tall, 
suh ;  she  jes  as  sweet  as  a  kiss  one  minute,  an' 
next  time  she  come  out  de  house  she  got  her  head 
up  in  de  air,  an'  her  ears  backed,  an'  goin'  long 
switchin'  herself  like  I  ain'  good  'nough  for  her  to 
walk  on. 

"  '  Fox-huntin's  ?  '  oh,  yes,  suh,  ev'y  day  mos'; 
an'  when  Marse  George  didn't  git  de  tail,  twuz 
'cause  twuz  a  bob-tail  fox  —  you  heah  me!  He 


"UNC'  E  DIN  BURG'S  DROWNDIN'"      53 

play  de  fiddle  for  he  pastime,  but  he  fetched  up  in 
de  saddle  —  dat  he  cradle ! 

"  De  fust  day  dee  went  out  I  heah  Nancy  quoilin 
'bout  de  tail  layin'  on  Miss  Charlotte  dressin'-table 
gittin'  hyahs  over  ev'ything. 

"  One  day  de  ladies  went  out  too,  Miss  Charlotte 
'mongst  'em,  on  Miss  Lucy'  gray  myah  Switchity, 
an'  Marse  George  he  rid  Mr.  Braxton's  chestnut 
Willful. 

"  Well,  suh,  he  stick  so  close  to  dat  gray  myah, 
he  leetle  mo'  los'  dat  fox ;  but,  Lord  !  he  know 
what  he  'bout  —  he  monsus  'ceivin'  'bout  dat  — 
he  know  de  way  de  fox  gwine  jes  as  well  as  he 
know  heself ;  an'  all  de  time  he  leadin'  Miss  Char 
lotte  whar  she  kin  heah  de  music,  but  he  watchin* 
him  loo,  jes  as  narrow  as  a  ole  hound.  So,  when 
de  fox  tun  de  head  o'  de  creek,  Marse  George  had 
Miss  Charlotte  on  de  aidge  o'  de  flat,  an'  he  de 
fust  man  see  de  fox  tun  down  on  turr  side  wid  de 
hounds  right  rank  after  him.  Dat  sort  o'  set  him 
back,  'cause  by  rights  de  fox  ought  to  a'  double  an' 
come  back  dis  side  :  he  kyarn  git  out  dat  way;  an' 
two  or  three  gent'mens  dee  had  see  it  too,  an'  wuz 
jes  layin  de  horses  to  de  groun'  to  git  roun'  fust, 
'cause  de  creek  wuz  heap  too  wide  to  jump,  an' 
wuz  'way  over  you  head,  an  hit  cold  as  Christmas, 
sho  'nough  ;  well,  suh,  when  dee  tunned,  Mr. 
Clarke  he  wuz  in  de  lead  (he  wuz  ridin'  for  Miss 
Charlotte  too),  an'  hit  fyah  set  Marse  George  on 
fire ;  he  ain'  said  but  one  wud, '  Wait,'  an'  jes  set 


54  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

de  chestnut's  head  straight  for  de  creek,  whar 
de  fox  comin'  wid  he  hyah  up  on  he  back,  an'  de 
dogs  ravlin  mos'  on  him. 

"  De  ladies  screamed,  an'  some  de  gent'mens 
hollered  for  him  to  come  back,  but  he  ain'  mind ; 
he  went  'cross  dat  flat  like  a  wild-duck ;  an'  when 
he  retch  de  water  he  horse  try  to  flinch,  but  dat 
hand  on  de  bridle,  an'  dem  rowels  in  he  side,  an' 
he  'bleeged  to  teck  it. 

"  Lord  !  suh,  sich  a  screech  as  dee  set  up  !  But 
he  wuz  swimmin'  for  life,  an'  he  wuz  up  de  bank 
an'  in  de  middle  o'  de  dogs  time  dee  tetched  ole 
Gray  Jacket ;  an'  when  Mr.  Clarke  got  dyah 
Marse  George  wuz  stan'in'  wid  ice  on  him,  holdin' 
up  de  tail  for  Miss  Charlotte  to  see,  turr  side  de 
creek,  an'  de  hounds  wuz  wallerin'  all  over  de 
body,  an'  I  don'  think  Mr.  Clarke  done  got  up 
wid  'em  yit. 

"  He  cotch  de  fox,  an'  he  cotch  some'n  else  be 
sides,  is  my  'pinion,  'cause  when  de  ladies  went 
upstairs  dat  night  Miss  Charlotte  had- to  wait  on 
de  steps  for  a  glass  o'  water,  an'  couldn'  nobody 
git  it  but  Marse  George ;  an'  den  when  she  tell 
him  good-night  over  de  banisters,  he  couldn'  say 
it  good  enough  ;  he  got  to  kiss  her  hand  ;  an'  she 
ain'  do  nuttin  but  jes  peep  upstairs  ef  anybody 
dyah  lookin' ;  an'  when  I  come  thoo  de  do'  she 
juck  her  hand  'way  an'  run  upstairs  jes  as  farst  as 
she  could.  Marse  George  look  at  me  sort  o' 
laughin',  an'  say  :  '  Confound  you !  Nancy  couldn' 
been  very  good  to  you.'  An'  I  say,  '  She  le*  me 


"UNC'    EDINBURG'S  DROWNDIN'"        55 

squench  my  thirst  a  leetle  kissin'  her  hand;'  an' 
he  sort  o'  laugh  an'  tell  me  to  keep  my  mouf  shet. 

"  But  dat  ain'  de  on'y  time  I  come  on  'em.  Dee 
al'ays  gittin'  corndered ;  an'  de  evenin'  befo'  we 
come  'way  I  wuz  gwine  in  thoo  de  conservity,  an' 
dyah  dee  wuz  sort  o'  hide  'way.  Miss  Charlotte 
she  wuz  settin'  down,  an'  Marse  George  he  wuz 
leanin'  over  her,  got  her  hand  to  he  face,  talkin' 
right  low  an'  lookin'  right  sweet,  an'  she  ain'  say 
nuttin ;  an'  presney  he  drapt  on  one  knee  by  her, 
an'  slip  he  arm  roun'  her,  an'  try  to  look  in  her 
eyes,  an'  she  so  'shamed  to  look  at  him  she  got  to 
hide  her  face  on  he  shoulder,  an'  I  slipt  out. 

"  We  come  'way  next  mornin'.  When  marster 
heah  'bout  it  he  didn'  teck  to  de  notion  at  all, 
'cause  her  pa  —  dat  is,  he  warn'  her  own  pa,  'cause 
he  had  married  her  ma  when  she  wuz  a  widder  after 
Miss  Charlotte  pa  died — an'  he  politics  warn'  same 
as  ourn.  '  Why,  you  kin  never  stand  him,  suh,'  he 
said  to  Marse  George.  *  We  won't  mix  any  mo'n 
fire  and  water ;  you  ought  to  have  found  that  out 
at  college;  dat  fellow  Darker  is  his  son.' 

"  Marse  George  he  say  he  know  dat ;  but  he 
on'y  de  step-brurr  of  de  young  lady,  an'  ain'  got 
a  drap  o'  her  blood  in  he  veins,  an'  he  didn'  know 
it  when  he  meet  her,  an'  anyhow  hit  wouldn'  meek 
any  diffence ;  an'  when  de  mistis  see  how  sot 
Marse  George  is  on  it  she  teck  he  side,  an'  dat  fix 
it ;  'cause  when  ole  mistis  warn  marster  to  do  a 
thing,  hit  jes  good  as  done.  I  don'  keer  how  much 
he  rar  roun'  an'  say  he  ain'  gwine  do  it,  you  jcs 


5 6  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

well  go  'long  an'  put  on  you  hat;  you  gwine  see 
him  presney  doin'  it  jes  peaceable  as  a  lamb.  She 
tun  him  jes  like  she  got  bline-bridle  on  him,  an' 
he  ain'  nuver  know  it. 

"  So  she  got  him  jes  straight  as  a  string.  An' 
when  de  time  come  for  Marse  George  to  go,  mars- 
ter  he  mo'  consarned  'bout  it  'n  Marse  George ; 
he  ain'  say  nuttin  'bout  it  befo' ;  but  now  he 
walkin'  roun'  an'  roun'  axin  mistis  mo'  questions 
'bout  he  does  an'  he  horse  an'  all ;  an'  dat  mornin' 
he  gi'  him  he  two  Sunday  razors,  an'  gi'  me  a  pyah 
o'  boots  an'  a  beaver  hat,  'cause  I  wuz  gwine  wid 
him  to  kyar  he  portmanteau,  an'  git  he  shavin* 
water,  sence  marster  say  ef  he  wuz  gwine  marry  a 
Locofoco,  he  at  least  must  go  like  a  gent'man ; 
an'  me  an'  Marse  George  had  done  settle  it  'twixt 
us,  cause  we  al'ays  set  bofe  we  traps  on  de  same 
hyah  parf. 

"  Well,  we  got  'em.  When  I  ax  dat  gal  out  on 
de  wood-pile  dat  night,  she  say  bein'  as  her  mistis 
gwine  own  me,  an'  we  bofe  got  to  be  in  de  same 
estate,  she  reckon  she  ain'  nuver  gwine  to  be  able 
to  git  shet  o'  me;  an'  den  I  clamp  her.  Oh,  she 
wuz  a  beauty  !  " 

A  gesture  and  guffaw  completed  the  recital  of 
his  conquest. 

"  Yes,  suh,  we  got  'em  sho !  "  he  said,  pres 
ently.  "  Dee  couldn'  persist  us ;  we  crowd  'em 
into  de  fence  an'  run  'em  off  dee  foots. 

"  Den  come  de  'gagement ;  an'  ev'ything  wuz 
smooth  as  silk.  Marse  George  an'  me  wuz  ridin' 


"UNC'   EDINBURG'S  DROWN  DIN  "        57 

over  dyah  constant,  on'y  we  nuver  did  git  over 
bein'  skeered  when  we  wuz  ridin'  up  dat  turpen 
tine  road  facin'  all  dem  winders.  Hit  'pears  like 
ev'ybody  in  de  wull  'mos'  wuz  lookin'  at  us. 

"  One  evenin'  Marse  George  say,  '  Edinburg, 
d'you  ever  see  as  many  winders  p'intin'  one  way 
in  you'  life  ?  When  I  git  a  house,'  he  say,  '  I 
gwine  have  all  de  winders  lookin'  turr  way.' 

"  But  dat  evenin'  when  I  see  Miss  Charlotte 
come  walkin'  out  de  gret  parlor  wid  her  hyah  sort 
o'  rumpled  over  her  face,  an'  some  yaller  roses  on 
her  bres,  an'  her  gret  eyes  so  soft  an'  sweet,  an' 
Marse  George  walkin'  'long  hinst  her,  so  peace 
able,  like  she  got  chain  'roun'  him,  I  say,  '  Or  — 
or,  winders  ain'  nuttin.' 

"  Oh,  twuz  jes  like  holiday  all  de  time !  An' 
den  Miss  Charlotte  come  over  to  see  mistis,  an'  of 
co'se  she  bring  her  maid  wid  her,  'cause  she 
'bleeged  to  have  her  maid,  you  know,  an'  dat 
wuz  de  bes'  of  all. 

"  Dat  evenin',  bout  sunset,  dee  come  drivin'  up  in 
de  big  ker'idge,  wid  de  gret  hyah  trunk  stropped 
on  de  seat  behind,  an'  Nancy  she  settin'  by  Billy, 
an'  Marse  George  settin'  inside  by  he  rose-bud, 
'cause  he  had  done  gone  down  to  bring  her  up; 
an'  marster  he  done  been  drest  in  he  blue  coat  an' 
yallow  westket  ever  sence  dinner,  an'  walkin' 
roun',  watchin'  up  de  road  all  de  time,  an'  tellin' 
de  mistis  he  reckon  dee  ain'  comin',  an  ole  mistis 
she  try  to  pacify  him,  an'  she  come  out  presney 
drest,  an'  rustlin'  in  her  stiff  black  silk  an'  all;  an' 


58  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

when  de  ker'idge  come  in  sight,  ev'ybody  wuz 
runnin'  j  an'  when  dee  draw  up  to  de  do',  Marse 
George  he  help  her  out  an'  in'duce  her  to  marster 
an'  ole  mistis ;  an'  marster  he  start  to  meek  her  a 
gret  bow,  an'  she  jes  put  up  her  mouf  like  a  little 
gal  to  be  kissed,  an'  dat  got  him.  An'  mistis  teck 
her  right  in  her  arms  an'  kiss  her  twice,  an'  de 
servants  dee  wuz  all  peepin'  an'  grinnin'. 

"  Ev'ywhar  you  tun  you  see  a  nigger  teef,  'cause 
dee  all  warn  see  de  young  mistis  whar  good  'nough 
for  Marse  George. 

"  Dee  ain'  gwine  be  married  tell  de  next  fall, 
'count  o'  Miss  Charlotte  bein'  so  young;  but  she 
jes  good  as  b'longst  to  we  all  now ;  an'  ole  marster 
an'  mistis  dee  jes  as  much  in  love  wid  her  as  Marse 
George.  Hi !  dee  warn  pull  de  house  down  an' 
buil'  it  over  for  her !  An'  ev'y  han'  on  de  place 
he  peepin'  to  try  to  git  a  look  at  he  young  mistis 
whar  he  gwine  b'longst  to.  One  evenin'  dee  all 
on  'em  come  roun'  de  porch  an'  send  for  Marse 
George,  an'  when  he  come  out,  Charley  Brown  (he 
al'ays  de  speaker,  'cause  he  got  so  much  mouf,  kin' 
talk  pretty  as  white  folks),  he  say  dee  warn  inter- 
duce  to  de  young  mistis,  an'  pay  dee  bespects  to 
her;  an'  presney  Marse  George  lead  her  out  on 
de  porch  laughin'  at  her,  wid  her  face  jes  rosy  as 
a  wine-sop  apple,  an'  she  meek  'em  a  beautiful 
bow'  an'  speak  to  'em  ev'y  one,  Marse  George 
namin'  de  names;  an'  Charley  Brown  he  meek 
her  a  pretty  speech,  an'  tell  her  we  mighty  proud 
to  own  her ;  an'  one  o'  dem  impident  gals  ax  her 


"UNC'   EDINBURG'S  DROWNDIN'"        59 

to  gin  her  dat  white  frock  when  she  git  married; 
an'  when  she  say,  '  Well,  what  am  I  goin'  wear  ? ' 
Sally  say,  '  Lord,  honey,  Marse  George  gwine 
dress  you  in  pure  gol' !  '  an'  she  look  up  at  him 
wid  sparks  flashin'  out  her  eyes,  while  he  look  like 
dat  ain'  good  'nough  for  her.  An'  so  twuz,  when 
she  went  'way,  Sally  Marshall  got  dat  frock,  an* 
proud  on  it  I  tell  you. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  he  sutney  mindin'  her  tender.  Hi ! 
when  she  go  to  ride  in  evenin'  wid  him,  de  ain'  no 
horse-block  good  'nough  for  her  !  Marse  George 
got  to  have  her  step  in  he  hand  ;  an'  when  dee  out 
walkin'  he  got  de  umbrellar  holdin'  't  over  her  all 
de  time,  he  so  feared  de  sun'll  kiss  her ;  an'  dee 
walk  so  slow  down  dem  walks  in  de  shade  you  got 
to  sight  'em  by  a  tree  to  tell  ef  dee  movin'  'tall. 
She  use'  to  look  like  she  used  to  it  too,  I  tell  you, 
'cause  she  wuz  quality,  one  de  white-skinned  ones ; 
an'  she'd  set  in  dem  big  cheers,  wid  her  little  foots 
on  de  cricket  whar  Marse  George  al'ays  set  for 
her,  he  so  feared  dee'd  tech  de  groun,' jeslike  she 
on  her  throne;  an'  ole  marster  he'd  watch  her 
'mos'  edmirin  as  Marse  George  ;  an'  when  she 
went  'way  hit  sutney  was  lonesome.  Hit  look 
like  daylight  gone  wid  her.  I  don'  know  which  I 
miss  mos',  Miss  Charlotte  or  Nancy. 

"  Den  Marse  George  was  'lected  to  de  Legisla 
ture,  an'  ole  Jedge  Darker  run  for  de  Senator,  an' 
Marse  George  vote  gin  him  and  beat  him.  An' 
dat  commence  de  fuss;  an'  den  dat  man  gi'  me  de 
whuppin,  an'  dat  breck  'tup  and  breck  he  heart. 


60  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

"  You  see,  after  Marse  George  wuz  'lected 
('Lections  wuz  'lections  dem  days;  dee  warn'  no 
baitgode  'lections,  wid  ev'y  sort  o'  wurrms  squirm- 
in'  up  'ginst  one  nurr,  wid  piece  o'  paper  d'  ain' 
know  what  on,  drappin'  in  a  chink ;  didn'  nuttin 
but  gent'mens  vote  den,  an'  dee  took  dee  dram, 
an'  vote  out  loud,  like  gent'mens)  —  well,  arter 
Marse  George  was  'lected,  de  parties  wuz  jes  as 
even  balanced  as  stilyuds,  an'  wen  dee  ax  Marse 
George  who  wuz  to  be  de  Senator,  he  vote  for  de 
Whig,  'ginst  de  old  jedge,  an'  dat  beat  him,  of 
co'se.  An'  dee  ain'  got  sense  to  know  he  'bleeged 
to  vote  wid  he  politics.  Dat  he  sprinciple ;  he 
kyarn  vote  for  Locofoco,  I  don'  keer  ef  he  is  Miss 
Charlotte  pa,  much  less  her  step-pa.  Of  co'se  de 
ole  jedge  ain'  speak  to  him  arter  dat,  nur  is  Marse 
George  ax  him  to.  But  who  dat  g'wine  s'pose 
women-folks  got  to  put  dee  mouf  in  too?  Miss 
Charlotte  she  write  Marse  George  a  letter  dat  pes 
ter  him  mightily;  he  set  up  all  night  answerin' 
dat  letter,  an'  he  mighty  solemn,  I  tell  you.  An* 
I  wuz  gittin'  right  grewjousome  myself,  'cause  I 
studyin'  'bout  dat  gal  down  dyah  whar  I  done  gi' 
my  wud  to,  an'  when  dee  ain'  no  letters  come  to- 
rectly  hit  hard  to  tell  which  one  de  anxiouser,  me 
or  Marse  George.  Den  presney  I  so  'straughted 
'long  o'  it  I  ax  Aunt  Haly  'bouten  it :  (She  know 
all  sich  things,  'cause  she  'mos'  a  hunderd  years 
ole,  an'  seed  evil  speerits,  an'  got  skoripins  up 
her  chimley,  an'  knowed  conjure) ;  an'  she  ax 
me  what  wuz  de  signication,  an'  I  tell  her  I  ain' 


"UNC'   EDJNJiURG'S  DROWNDIN"'        61 

able  nuther  to  eat  nor  to  sleep,  an'  dat  gal  come 
foolin'  'long  me  when  I  sleep  jes  as  natchel  as  ef 
I  see  her  sho'  'nough.  An'  she  say  I  done  con 
jured;  dat  de  gal  done  tricked  me. 

"  Oh,  Gord  !  dat  skeered  me ! 

"  You  white  folks,  marster,  don'  b'lieve  nuttin 
like  dat ;  y'  all  got  too  much  sense,  'cause  y'  all 
kin  read ;  but  niggers  dee  ain'  know  no  better,  an' 
I  sutney  wuz  skeered,  'cause  Aunt  Haly  say  my 
coffin  done  seasoned,  de  planks  up  de  chimley. 

"  Well,  I  got  so  bad  Marse  George  ax  me  'bout 
it,  an'  he  sort  o'  laugh  an'  sort  o'  cuss,  an'  he  tell 
Aunt  Haly  ef  she  don'  stop  dat  foolishness  skeerin' 
me  he'll  sell  her  an'  tyah  her  ole  skoripin  house 
down.  Well,  co'se  he  jes  talkin',  an'  he  ax  me 
next  day  how'd  I  like  to  go  an'  see  my  sweetheart. 
Gord  !  suh,  I  got  well  torectly.  So  I  set  off  next 
evenin',  feelin'  jes  big  as  ole  marster,  wid  my 
pass  in  my  pocket,  which  I  warn'  to  show  nobody 
'douten  I  'bleeged  to,  'cause  Marse  George  didn't 
warn  nobody  to  know  he  le'  me  go.  An'  den  dat 
rascallion  teck  de  shut  off  my  back.  But  ef  Marse 
George  didn'  pay  him  de  wuth  o'  it ! 

"  I  done  git  'long  so  good,  too. 

"  When  Nancy  see  me  she  sutney  was  'ston- 
ished.  She  come  roun'  de  cornder  in  de  back 
yard  whar  I  settin'  in  Nat's  do'  (he  wuz  de  gar 
dener),  wid  her  hyah  all  done  ontwist,  an'  breshed 
out  mighty  fine,  an'  a  clean  ap'on  wid  fringe  on  it, 
meckin'  out  she  so  s'prised  to  see  me  (whar  wuz 
all  a  lie,  'cause  some  on  'em  done  notify  her  I 


62  IN   OLE   VIRGINIA 

dyah),  an*  she  say,  '  Hi !  what  dis  black  nigger 
doin'  heah  ?  ' 

"  An'  I  say,  '  Who  you  callin'  nigger,  you  impi- 
dent,  kercumber-faced  thing,  you  ?  '  Den  we  shake 
hands,  an'  I  tell  her  Marse  George  done  set  me 
free  —  dat  I  done  buy  myself;  dat's  de  lie  I  done 
lay  off  to  tell  her. 

"  An'  when  I  tole  her  dat,  she  bust  out  laughin', 
an'  say,  well,  I  better  go  'long  'way,  den,  dat  she 
don'  warn  no  free  nigger  to  be  comp'ny  for  her.' 
Uat  sort  o'  set  me  back,  an'  I  tell  her  she  kickin' 
'fo'  she  spurred,  dat  I  ain'  got  her  in  my  mine  ;  I 
got  a  nurr  gal  at  home  whar  grievin'  'bout  me  dat 
ve'y  minute.  An'  after  I  tell  her  all  sich  lies  as 
dat  presney  she  ax  me  ain'  I  hongry ;  an'  ef  dat 
nigger  didn'  git  her  mammy  to  gi'  me  de  bes'  sup- 
ter  !  Umm-m  !  I  kin  mos'  tas'e  it  now.  Wheat 
bread  off  de  table,  an'  zerves,  an'  fat  bacon,  tell  I 
couldn'  put  a  nurr  moufful  nowhar  sep'n  I'd  teck 
my  hat.  Dat  night  I  tote  Nancy  water  for  her, 
an'  I  tell  her  all  'bout  ev'ything,  an'  she  jes  sweet 
as  honey.  Next  mornin',  do',  she  done  sort  o' 
tunned  some,  an'  ain'  so  sweet.  You  know  how 
milk  gits  sort  o'  bonny  -clabberish  ?  An'  when 
she  see  me  she  'gin  to  'buse  me  —  say  I  jes'  tryin' 
to  fool  her,  an'  all  de  time  got  nurr  wife  at  home, 
or  gittin'  ready  to  git  one,  for  all  she  know,  an'  she 
ain'  know  wherr  Marse  George  ain'  jes  'ceivin'  as 
I  is ;  an'  nem  mine,  she  got  plenty  warn  marry 
her ;  an'  as  to  Miss  Charlotte,  she  got  de  whole 
wull;  Mr.  Darker  he  ain'  got  nobody  in  he  way 


"IWC"   EDIX  BURG'S  DROWNDIN'"        63 

now,  dat  he  deah  all  de  time,  an'  ain'  gwine  West 
no  ino'.  Well,  dat  aggrivate  me  so  I  tell  her  ef 
she  say  dat  'bout  Marse  George  I  gwine  knock 
her ;  an'  wid  dat  she  got  so  oudacious  I  meek  out 
I  gwine  'way,  an'  lef  her,  an'  went  up  todes  de 
barn;  an'  up  dyah,  fust  thing  I  know,  I  come 
across  dat  ar  man  Mr.  Darker.  Soon  as  he  see 
me  he  begin  to  cuss  me,  an'  he  ax  me  what  I  doin' 
on  dat  land,  an'  I  tell  him  '  Nuttin'.  An'  he  say, 
well,  he  gwine  gi'  me  some'n  ;  he  gwine  teach  me 
to  come  prowlin'  round  gent'men's  houses.  An' 
he  meek  me  go  in  de  barn  an'  teck  ofifmy  shut,  an' 
he  beat  me  wid  he  whup  tell  de  blood  run  out  my 
back.  He  sutney  did  beat  me  scandalous,  'cause 
he  done  hate  me  an'  Marse  George  ever  since  we 
wuz  at  college  togurr.  An'  den  he  say :  '  Now 
you  git  right  offdis  land.  Ef  either  you  or  you 
marster  ever  put  you  foot  on  it,  you'll  git  de  same 
thing  agin.'  An'  I  tell  you,  Edinburg  he  come 
way,  'cause  he  sutney  had  worry  me.  I  ain'  stop 
to  see  Nancy  or  nobody ;  I  jes  come  'long,  shakin' 
de  dust,  I  tell  you.  An'  as  I  come  'long  de  road 
I  pass  Miss  Charlotte  walkin'  on  de  lawn  by  her 
self,  an'  she  call  me  :  '  Why,  hi !  ain'  dat  Edin 
burg?' 

"  She  look  so  sweet,  an'  her  voice  soun'  so  cool, 
I  say,  '  Yes'm ;  how  you  do,  missis  ?  '  An'  she 
say,  she  ve'y  well,  an'  how  I  been,  an'  whar  I 
gwine  ?  I  tell  her  I  ain'  feelin'  so  well,  dat  I 
gwine  home.  '  Hi !  '  she  say, '  is  anybody  treat 
you  bad  ?  '  An'  I  tell  her,  « Yes'm'.  An'  she 


64  IN  &LE    VIRGINIA 

say,  '  Oh !  Nancy  don'  mean  nuttin  by  dat ;  dat 
you  mus'n  mine  what  womens  say,  an'  do,  'cause 
dee  feel  sorry  for  it  next  minute ;  an'  sometimes 
dee  kyarn  help  it,  or  maybe  hit  you  fault ;  an'  any 
how,  you  ought  to  be  willin'  to  overlook  it ;  an'  I 
better  go  back  an'  wait  till  to-morrow  —  ef — ef 
I  ain'  'bleeged  to  git  home  to-day.' 

"  She  got  mighty  mixed  up  in  de  een  part  o' 
dat,  an'  she  looked  mighty  anxious  'bout  me  an' 
Nancy;  an'  I  tell  her,  'No'm,  I  'bleeged  to  git 
home.' 

"  Well,  when  I  got  home  Marse  George  he  warn 
know  all  dat  gwine  on;  but  1  mighty  sick  —  dat 
man  done  beat  me  so  ;  an'  he  ax  me  what  de  mar- 
ter,  an'  I  upped  an'  tell  him. 

"  Gord  !  I  nuver  see  a  man  in  sich  a  rage.  He 
call  me  in  de  office  an'  meek  me  teck  off  my  shut, 
an'  he  fyah  bust  out  cryin'.  He  walked  up  an' 
down  dat  office  like  a  caged  lion.  Ef  he  had  got 
he  hand  on  Mr.  Darker  den,  he'd  'a  kilt  him,  sho ! 

"  He  wuz  most  'stracted.  I  don't  know  what 
he'd  been  ef  I'd  tell  him  what  Nancy  tell  me.  He 
call  for  Peter  to  git  he  horse  torectly,  an'  he  tell 
me  to  go  an'  git  some'n  from  mammy  to  put  on  my 
back,  an'  to  go  to  bed  torectly,  an'  not  to  say  nut- 
tin  to  nobody,  but  to  tell.he  pa  he'd  be  away  for  two 
days,  maybe ;  an'  den  he  got  on  Reveller  an'  gal 
loped  'way  hard  as  he  could,  wid  he  jaw  set  farst, 
an'  he  heaviest  whup  clamped  in  he  hand.  Gord  ! 
I  wuz  most  hopin*  he  wouldn'  meet  dat  man, 
'cause  I  feared  ef  he  did  he'd  kill  him;  an'  he 


"  UNC'  EDINBURG'S  DROWNDIN'"        65 

would,  sho,  ef  he  had  meet  him  right  den ;  dee 
say  he  leetle  mo'  did  when  he  fine  him  next  day, 
an'  he  had  done  been  ridin'  den  all  night;  he 
cotch  him  at  a  sto'  on  de  road,  an'  dee  say  he 
leetle  mo'  cut  him  all  to  pieces  ;  he  drawed  a 
weepin  on  Marse  George,  but  Marse  George 
wrench  it  out  he  hand  an'  flung  it  over  de  fence ; 
an'  when  dee  got  him  'way  he  had  weared  he 
whup  out  on  him  ;  an'  he  got  dem  whelps  on  him 
now,  ef  he  ain'  dead.  Yes,  suh,  he  ain'  let  nobody 
else  do  dat  he  ain'  do  heself,  sho  ! 

"  Dat  done  de  business ! 

"  He  sont  Marse  George  a  challenge,  but  Marse 
George  sont  him  wud  he'll  cowhide  him  agin  ef 
he  ever  heah  any  mo'  from  him,  an'  he  'ain't.  Dat 
perrify  him,  so  he  shet  he  mouf.  Den  come  he 
ring  an'  all  he  pictures  an'  things  back — a  gret 
box  on  'em',  and  not  a  wud  wid  'em.  Marse 
George,  I  think  he  know'd  dee  wuz  comin',  but 
dat  ain'  keep  it  from  huttin  him,  'cause  he  done 
been  'gaged  to  Miss  Charlotte,  an'  got  he  mine 
riveted  to  her;  an'  do'  befo'  dat  dee  had  stop 
writin',  an'  a  riff  done  git  'tv/ixt  'em,  he  ain'  satis 
fied  in  he  mine  dat  she  ain't  gwine  'pologizee  — 
I  know  by  Nancy ;  but  now  he  got  de  confirma 
tion  dat  he  done  for  good,  an'  dat  de  gret  gulf 
fixed  'twix  him  an'  Aberham  bosom.  An',  Gord, 
suh,  twuz  torment,  sho  'nough !  He  ain'  say 
nuttin  'bout  it,  but  I  see  de  light  done  pass  from 
him,  an'  de  darkness  done  wrap  him  up  in  it.  In 
a  leetle  while  you  wouldn'  a  knowed  him. 


66  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

"  Den  ole  mistis  died. 

"  B'lieve  me,  ole  marster  he  'most  much  hut  by 
Miss  Charlotte  as  Marse  George.  He  meek  a 
'tempt  to  buy  Nancy  for  me,  so  I  find  out  arter- 
ward,  an'  write  Jedge  Darker  he'll  pay  him  any 
thing  he'll  ax  for  her,  but  he  letter  wuz  sont  back 
'dout  any  answer.  He  sutney  was  mad  'bout  it 
—  he  say  he'd  horsewhip  him  as  Marse  George 
did  dat  urr  young  puppy,  but  ole  mistis  wouldn' 
le'  him  do  nuttin,  and  den  he  grieve  heself  to 
death.  You  see  he  mighty  ole,  anyways.  He  nuver 
got  over  ole  mistis'  death.  She  had  been  failin'  a 
long  time,  an'  he  ain'  tarry  long  'hinst  her ;  hit  sort 
o'  like  breckin  up  a  holler  —  de  ole  'coon  goes  'way 
soon  arter  dat ;  an'  marster  nuver  could  pin  he 
own  collar  or  buckle  he  own  stock  —  mistis  she 
al'ays  do  dat ;  an'  do'  Marse  George  do  de  bes'  he 
kin,  an'  mighty  willin',  he  kyarn  handle  pin  like 
a  woman ;  he  hand  tremble  like  a  p'inter  dog ; 
an'  anyways  he  ain'  ole  mistis.  So  ole  marster 
foller  her  dat  next  fall,  when  dee  wuz  gittin  in  de 
corn,  an'  Marse  George  he  ain'  got  nobody  in  de 
wull  left ;  he  all  alone  in  dat  gret  house,  an'  I 
wonder  sometimes  he  ain'  die  too,  'cause  he  sutney 
wuz  fond  o'  old  marster. 

"  When  ole  mistis  v\ruz  dyin',  she  tell  him  to  be 
good  to  ole  marster,  an'  patient  wid  him,  'cause 
he  ain'  got  nobody  but  him  now  (ole  marster  he 
had  jes  step  out  de  room  to  cry);  an'  Marse 
George  he  lean  over  her  an'  kiss  her  an'  promise 
her  faithful  he  would.  An'  he  sutney  wuz  tender 


"UNC   EDINBURG'S  DROWNDIN'"        67 

wid  him  as  a  woman ;  an'  when  ole  marster  die, 
he  set  by  him  an'  hoi'  he  hand  an'  kiss  him  sorf, 
like  he  wuz  ole  mistis. 

"  But,  Gord !  twuz  lonesome  arter  dat,  an* 
Marse  George  eyes  look  wistful,  like  he  al'ays 
lookin'  far  'way. 

"  Aunt  Haly  say  he  see  harnts  whar  walk  'bout 
in  de  gret  house.  She  say  dee  walk  dyah  con 
stant  of  nights  sence  ole  marster  done  alterate  de 
rooms  from  what  dee  wuz  when  he  gran'pa  buil' 
'em,  an'  dat  dee  huntin'  for  dee  ole  chambers  an' 
kyarn  git  no  rest  'cause  dee  kyarn  fine  'em.  I 
don't  know  how  dat  wuz.  I  know  Marse  George 
he  used  to  walk  about  heself  mightily  of  nights. 
All  night  long,  all  night  long,  I'd  heah  him  tell  de 
chickens  crowin'  dee  second  crow,  an'  some  morn- 
in's  I'd  go  dyah  an'  he  ain'  even  rumple  de  bed.  I 
thought  sho  he  wuz  gwine  die,  but  I  suppose  he 
done  'arn  he  days  to  be  long  in  de  land,  an'  dat 
save  him.  But  hit  sutney  wuz  lonesome,  an'  he 
nuver  went  off  de  plantation,  an'  he  got  older  an* 
older,  tell  we  all  thought  he  wuz  gwine  die. 

"An'  one  day  come  jes  befo'  Christmas,  'bout 
nigh  two  year  arfter  marster  die,  Mr.  Braxton 
ride  up  to  de  do'.  He  had  done  come  to  teck 
Marse  George  home  to  spen'  Christmas  wid  him. 
Marse  George  warn  git  out  it,  but  Mr.  Braxton 
won'  teck  no  disapp'intment ;  he  say  he  gwine 
baptize  he  boy,  an'  he  done  name  him  after  Marse 
George  (he  had  marry  Marse  George  cousin,  Miss 
Peggy  Carter,  an'  he  vite  Marse  George  to  de 


68  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

weddin',  but  he  wouldn'  go,  do'  I  sutney  did  want 
him  to  go,  'cause  I  heah  Miss  Charlotte  was  nom 
inated  to  marry  Mr.  Darker,  an'  I  warn  know 
what  done  'come  o'  dat  bright-skinned  nigger  gal 
whar  I  used  to  know  down  dyah) ;  an'  he  say 
Marse  George  got  to  come  an'  stan'  for  him,  an' 
gi'  him  a  silver  cup  an'  a  gol'  rattle.  So  Marse 
George  he  finally  promise  to  come  an'  spend 
Christmas  Day,  an'  Mr.  Braxton  went  'way  next 
mornin',  an'  den  hit  tun  in  an'  rain  so  I  feared  we 
couldn'  go,  but  hit  cler  off  de  day  befo'  Christmas 
Eve  an'  tun  cold.  Well,  suh,  we  ain'  been  no- 
whar  for  so  long  I  wuz  skittish  as  a  young  filly ; 
an'  den  you  know  twuz  de  same  ole  place. 

"  We  didn'  git  dyah  till  supper-time,  an'  twuz 
a  good  one  too,  'cause  seventy  miles  dat  cold  a 
weather  hit  whet  a  man's  honger  jes  like  a  whet 
stone. 

"  Dee  sutney  wuz  glad  to  see  we  all.  We  rid 
roun'  by  de  back  yard  to  gi'  Billy  de  horses,  an* 
we  see  dee  wuz  havin'  gret  fixin's ;  an'  den  we 
went  to  de  house,  jest  as  some  o'  de  folks  run  in 
an'  tell  'em  we  wuz  come.  When  Marse  George 
stept  in  de  hall,  dee  all  clustered  roun'  him  like 
dee  gwine  hug  him,  dee  faces  fyah  dimplin'  wid 
pleasure,  an'  Miss  Peggy  she  jes  reched  "up  an' 
teck  him  in  her  arms  an'  hug  him. 

"  Dee  tell  me  in  de  kitchen  dat  dee  wuz  been 
'spectin'  of  Miss  Charlotte  over  to  spend  Christ 
mas  too,  but  de  river  wuz  so  high  dee  s'pose  dee 
couldn'  git  cross.  Chile,  dat  sutney  disapp'int  me  ! 


"UNC'   EDINBURGH  DROIVNDJN'"        69 

*4  Well,  after  supper  de  niggers  had  a  dance. 
Hit  wuz  down  in  de  wash-house,  an'  de  table  wuz 
set  in  de  carpenter  shop  jes'  by.  Oh,  hit  sutney 
wuz  beautiful !  Miss  Lucy  an*  Miss  Ailsy  dee 
had  superintend  ev'ything  wid  dee  own  hands. 
So  dee  wuz  down  dyah  wid  dee  ap'ons  up  to  dee 
chins,  an'  dee  had  de  big  silver  strandeliers  out 
de  house,  two  on  each  table,  an'  some  o'  ole  mis- 
tis's  best  damas'  tablecloths,  an'  ole  marster's  gret 
bowl  full  o'  egg-nog ;  hit  look  big  as  a  mill-pond 
settin'  dyah  in  de  cornder ;  an'  dee  had  flowers 
out  de  greenhouse  on  de  table,  an'  some  o'  de 
chany  out  de  gret  house,  an'  de  dinin'-room  cheers 
set  roun'  de  room.  Oh  !  oh  !  nuttin  warn  too 
good  for  niggers  dem  times  ;  an'  de  little  niggers 
wuz  runnin'  roun'  right  'stracted,  squealin'  an' 
peepin'  an'  gittin  in  de  way  onder  you  foots ;  an' 
de  mens  dee  wuz  totin'  in  de  wood  —  gret  hickory 
logs,  look  like  stock  whar  you  gwine  saw  —  an' 
de  fire  so  big  hit  look  like  you  gwine  kill  hawgs, 
'cause  hit  sutney  wuz  cold  dat  night.  Dis  nigger 
am'  nuver  gwine  forgit  it !  Jack  Forester  he  had 
come  'cross  de  river  to  lead  de  fiddlers,  an'  he  say 
he  had  to  put  he  fiddle  onder  he  coat  an'  poke  he 
bow  in  he  breeches  leg  to  keep  de  strings  from 
poppin',  an'  dat  de  river  would  freeze  over  sho  ef 
twarn  so  high ;  but  twuz  jes  snortin',  an'  he  had 
hard  wuck  to  git  over  in  he  skiff,  an'  Unc'  Jeems 
say  he  ain'  gwine  come  out  he  boat-house  no  mo' 
dat  night  —  he  done  tempt  Providence  often  'nough 
for  one  day. 


V 


70  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

"  Den  ev'ything  wuz  ready,  an'  de  fiddlers  got 
dee  dram  an'  chuned  up,  an'  twuz  lively,  I  tell 
you !  Twuz  jes  as  thick  in  dyah  as  blackberries 
on  de  blackberry  bush,  'cause  ev'y  gal  on  de  plan 
tation  wuz  dyah  shakin'  her  foot  for  some  young 
buck,  an'  back-steppin'  for  to  go  'long.  Dem  ole 
sleepers  wuz  jes  a-rockin',  an'  Jack  Forester  he 
wuz  callin'  de  figgers  for  to  wake  'em  up.  I  warn' 
dancin',  'cause  I  done  got  'ligion  an'  longst  to  de 
chutch  sence  de  trouble  done  tech  us  up  so  rank ; 
but  I  tell  you  my  foots  wuz  pintedly  eechchin  for  a 
leetle  sop  on  it,  an'  I  had  to  come  out  to  keep  from 
crossin'  'em  onst,  anyways.  Den,  too,  I  had  a 
tetch  o'  misery  in  my  back,  an'  I  lay  off  to  git  a 
tas'e  o'  dat  egg-nog  out  dat  big  bowl,  wid  snow 
drift  on  it,  from  Miss  Lucy  —  she  al'ays  mighty 
fond  o'  Marse  George ;  so  I  slip  into  de  carpenter 
shop,  an'  ax  her  kyarn  I  do  nuttin  for  her,  an'  she 
laugh  an'  say,  yes,  I  kin  drink  her  health,  an'  gi' 
me  a  gret  gobletful,  an'  jes  den  de  white  folks 
come  in  to  'spec'  de  tables,  Marse  George  in  de 
lead,  an'  dee  all  fill  up  dee  glasses  an*  pledge  dee 
health,  an'  all  de  servants',  an'  a  merry  Christmas; 
an'  den  dee  went  in  de  wash-house  to  see  de 
dancin',  an'  maybe  to  teck  a  hand  deeself,  'cause 
white  folks'  'ligion  ain'  like  niggers',  you  know ; 
dee  got  so  much  larnin  dee  kin  dance,  an'  fool  de 
devil  too.  An'  I  stay  roun'  a  little  while,  an'  den 
went  in  de  kitchen  to  see  how  supper  gittin'  on, 
'cause  I  wuz  so  hongry  when  I  got  dyah  I  ain' 
able  to  eat  'nough  at  one  time  to  'commodate  it, 


"  UNC'   EDIXBURG'S  DROll'NDIN'"        71 

an'  de  smell  o'  de  tuckeys  an'  de  gret  saddlers  o' 
mutton  in  de  tin-kitchens  wuz  mos'  'nough  by 
deeself  to  feed  a  right  hongry  man  ;  an'  dyah  wuz 
a  whole  parcel  o'  niggers  cookin'  an'  tunnin  'bout 
for  life,  an'  dee  faces  jes  as  shiny  as  ef  dee  done 
bas'e  'em  wid  gravy ;  an'  dyah,  settin'  back  in  a 
cheer  out  de  way,  wid  her  clean  frock  up  off  de 
flo',  wuz  dat  gal  !  I  sutney  did  feel  curiousome. 

"  I  say,  '  Hi !  name  o'  Gord  !  whar'd  you  come 
from  ?  '  She  say,  *  Oh,  Marster  !  ef  heah  ain'  dat 
free  nigger  agin  !  '  An'  ev'ybody  laughed. 

"  Well,  presny  we  come  out,  cause  Nancy  warn 
see  de  dancin',  an'  we  stop  a  leetle  while  'hind  de 
cornder  out  de  wind  while  she  tell  me  'bout  ev'y- 
thing.  An'  she  say  dat's  all  a  lie  she  tell  me  dat 
day  'bout  Mr.  Darker  an'  Miss  Charlotte  ;  an'  he 
done  gone  'way  now  for  good  'cause  he  so  low 
down  an'  wuthless  dee  kyarn  nobody  stand  him  ; 
an'  all  he  warn  marry  Miss  Charlotte  for  is  to  git 
her  niggers.  But  Nancy  say  Miss  Charlotte  nuver 
could  abide  him;  he  so  'sateful,  'spressly  sence 
she  fine  out  what  a  lie  he  told  'bout  Marse  George. 
You  know,  Mr.  Darker  he  done  meek  'em  think 
Marse  George  sont  me  dyah  to  fine  out  ef  he  done 
come  home,  an'  den  dat  he  fall  on  him  wid  he 
weepin  when  he  ain'  noticin'  him,  an'  sort  o'  out 
de  way  too,  an'  git  two  urr  mens  to  hold  him  while 
he  beat  him,  all  'cause  he  in  love  wid  Miss  Char 
lotte.  D'you  ever,  ever  heah  sich  a  lie  ?  An' 
Nancy  say,  do'  Miss  Charlotte  ain'  b'lieve  it  all 
togerr,  hit  look  so  reasonable  she  done  le'  de  ole 


72  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

jedge  an'  her  ma,  who  wuz  'pending  on  what  she 
heah,  'duce  her  to  send  back  he  things ;  an'  dee 
ain'  know  no  better  not  tell  after  de  ole  jedge  die ; 
den  dee  fine  out  'bout  de  whuppin  me,  an'  all ;  an' 
den  Miss  Charlotte  know  huccome  I  ain'  gwine 
stay  dat  day ;  an'  she  say  dee  was  sutney  outdone 
'bout  it,  but  it  too  late  den ;  an'  Miss  Charlotte 
kyarn  do  nuttin  but  cry  'bout  it,  an'  dat  she  did, 
pintedly,  'cause  she  done  lost  Marse  George,  an' 
done  'stroy  he  life  ;  an'  she  nuver  keer  'bout  no- 
body  else  sep  Marse  George,  Nancy  say.  Mr. 
Clarke  he  hangin'  on,  but  Miss  Charlotte  she  done 
tell  him  pintedly  she  ain'  nuver  gwine  marry  no 
body.  An'  dee  jes  done  come,  she  say,  'cause  dee 
had  to  go  'way  roun  by  de  rope  ferry  'long  o'  de 
river  bein'  so  high,  an'  dee  ain'  know  tell  dee  done 
git  out  de  ker'idge  an'  in  de  house  dat  we  all  wuz 
heah ;  an'  Nancy  say  she  glad  dee  ain',  'cause 
she  'feared  ef  dee  had,  Miss  Charlotte  wouldn'  'a 
come. 

"  Den  I  tell  her  all  'bout  Marse  George,  'cause 
I  know  she  'bleeged  to  tell  Miss  Charlotte.  Twuz 
powerful  cold  out  dyah,  but  I  ain'  mine  dat,  chile. 
Nancy  she  done  had  to  wrop  her  arms  up  in  her 
ap'on  an'  she  kyarn  meek  no  zistance  'tall,  'an 
dis  nigger  ain'  keerin'  nuttin  'bout  cold  den. 

"  An'  jes  den  two  ladies  come  out  de  carpenter 
shop  an'  went  'long  to  de  wash-house,  an'  Nancy 
say,  '  Dyah  Miss  Charlotte  now ;  '  an'  twuz  Miss 
Lucy  an'  Miss  Charlotte ;  an'  we  heah  Miss  Lucy 
coaxin'  Miss  Charlotte  to  go,  tellin'  her  she  kin 


"UNC'  EDINBURGH  DROWN  DIN"'        73 

come  right  out ;  an'  jes  den  dee  wuz  a  gret  shout, 
an'  we  went  in  hinst  'em.  Twuz  Marse  George 
had  done  teck  de  fiddle,  an'  ef  he  warn'  natchelly 
layin'  hit  down !  he  wuz  up  at  de  urr  een  o'  de 
room,  'way  from  we  all,  'cause  we  wuz  at  de  do', 
nigh  Miss  Charlotte  whar  she  wuz  standin'  'hind 
some  on  'em,  wid  her  eyes  on  him  mighty  timid, 
like  she  hidin'  from  him,  an'  ev'y  nigger  in  de 
room  wuz  on  dat  flo'.  Gord  !  suh,  dee  wuz  grin- 
nin'  so  dee  warn'  a  toof  in  dat  room  you  couldn' 
git  you  tweezers  on ;  an'  you  couldn'  heah  a  wud, 
dee  so  proud  o'  Marse  George  playin'  for  'em. 

"Well,  dee  danced  tell  you  couldn'  tell  which 
wuz  de  clappers  an'  which  de  back-steppers ;  de 
whole  house  look  like  it  wuz  rockin' ;  an'  presney 
somebody  say  supper,  an'  dat  stop  'em,  an'  dee 
wuz  a  spell  for  a  minute,  an'  Marse  George  stand- 
in'  dyah  wid  de  fiddle  in  he  hand.  He  face  wuz 
tunned  away,  an'  he  wuz  studyin' —  studyin'  'bout 
dat  urr  Christmas  so  long  ago  —  an'  sudney  he 
face  drapt  down  on  de  fiddle,  an'  he  drawed  he 
bow  'cross  de  strings,  an'  dat  chune  'bout  '  You'll 
ermember  me  '  begin  to  whisper  right  sorf.  Hit 
begin  so  low  ev'ybody  had  to  stop  talkin'  an  hold 
dee  mouf  to  heah  it;  an'  Marse  George  he  ain' 
know  nuttin  'bout  it,  he  done  gone  back,  an* 
standin'  dyah  in  de  gret  hall  playin'  it  for  Miss 
Charlotte,  whar  done  come  down  de  steps  wid  her 
little  blue  foots  an'  gret  fan,  an'  standin'  dyah  in 
her  dim  blue  dress  an'  her  fyah  arms,  an'  her  gret 
eyes  lookin'  in  he  face  so  earnest,  whar  he  ain' 


74  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

gwine  nuver  speak  to  no  mo'.  I  see  it  by  de  way 
he  look  —  an'  de  fiddle  wuz  jes  pleadin'.  He 
drawed  it  out  jes  as  fine  as  a  stran'  o'  Miss  Char 
lotte's  hyah. 

"  Hit  so  sweet,  Miss  Charlotte,  mun,  she  couldn' 
stan'  it;  she  made  to  de  do';  an'  jes  while  she 
watchin'  Marse  George  to  keep  him  from  seein' 
her  he  look  dat  way,  an'  he  eyes  fall  right  into 
hern. 

"  Well,  suh,  de  fiddle  drapt  down  on  de  flo' — 
perlang !  —  an'  he  face  wuz  white  as  a  sycamore 
limb. 

"  Dee  say  twuz  a  swimmin'  in  de  head  he  had ; 
an'  Jack  say  de  whole  fiddle  warn  wuff  de  five  dol 
lars. 

"  Me  an'  Nancy  followed  'em  tell  dee  went  in  de 
house,  an'  den  we  come  back  to  de  shop  whar  de 
supper  wuz  gwine  on,  an'  got  we  all  supper  an'  a 
leetle  sop  o'  dat  yaller  gravy  out  dat  big  bowl,  an' 
den  we  all  rejourned  to  de  wash-house  agin,  an' 
got  onder  de  big  bush  o'  misseltow  whar  hangin* 
from  de  jice,  an'  ef  you  ever  see  scufflin'  dat's  de 
time. 

"  Well,  me  an'  she  had  jes  done  lay  offde  whole 
Christmas,  when  wud  come  dat  Marse  George  want 
he  horses. 

"  I  went,  but  it  sutney  breck  me  up ;  an'  I  won 
der  whar  de  name  o'  Gord  Marse  George  gwine 
sen'  me  dat  cold  night,  an'  jes  as  I  got  to  de 
do'  Marse  George  an'  Mr.  Braxton  come  out,  an' 
I  know  torectly  Marse  George  wuz  gwine  'way.  I 


"UNO'   EDIN BURG'S  DROWNDIN'"        75 

seen  he  face  by  de  light  o'  de  lantern,  an'  twuz  set 
jes  rigid  as  a  rock. 

"  Mr.  Braxton  he  wuz  baiggin  him  to  stay;  he 
tell  him  he  ruinin'  he  life,  dat  he  sho  dee's  some 
mistake,  an'  twill  be  all  right.  An'  all  de  answer 
Marse  George  meek  wuz  to  swing  heself  up  in  de 
saddle,  an'  Reveller  he  look  like  he  gwine  fyah 
'stracted.  He  al'ays  mighty  fool  anyways  when 
he  git  cold,  dat  horse  wuz. 

"  Well,  we  come  'long  'way,  an'  Mr.  Braxton 
an'  two  mens  come  down  to  de  river  wid  lanterns 
to  see  us  cross,  'cause  twuz  dark  as  pitch,  sho 
'nough. 

"  An*  jes  'fo'  I  started  I  got  one  o'  de  mens  to 
hoi'  my  horses,  an'  I  went  in  de  kitchen  to  git 
warm,  an'  dyah  Nancy  wuz.  An'  she  say  Miss 
Charlotte  upsteairs  cryin'  right  now,  'cause  she 
think  Marse  George  gwine  cross  de  river  'count  o' 
her,  an'  she  whimper  a  little  herself  when  I  tell 
her  good-by.  But  twuz  too  late  den. 

"  Well,  de  river  wuz  jes  natchelly  b'ilin',  an' 
hit  soun'  like  a  mill-dam  roarin'  by ;  an'  when  we 
got  dyah  Marse  George  tunned  to  me  an'  tell  me 
he  reckon  I  better  go  back.  I  ax  him  whar  he 
gwine,  an'  he  say,  '  Home.'  *  Den  I  gwine  wid 
you,'  I  says.  I  wuz  mighty  skeered,  but  me  an' 
Marse  George  wuz  boys  togerr ;  an'  he  plunged 
right  in,  an'  I  after  him. 

"  Gord  !  twuz  cold  as  ice;  an'  we  hadn'  got  in 
befo'  bofe  horses  wuz  swimmin'  for  life.  He 
holler  to  me  to  byah  de  myah  head  up  de  stream  ; 


76  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

an'  I  did  try,  but  what's  a  nigger  to  dat  water  ! 
Hit  jes  pick  me  up  an'  dash  me  down  like  I  ain' 
no  mo'n  a  chip,  an'  de  fust  thing  I  know  I  gwine 
down  de  stream  like  a  piece  of  bark,  an'  water 
washin'  all  over  me.  I  knowed  den  I  gone,  an'  I 
hollered  for  Marse  George  for  help.  I  heah  him 
answer  me  not  to  git  skeered,  but  to  hold  on ;  but 
de  myah  wuz  lungin'  an'  de  water  wuz  all  over  me 
like  ice,  an'  den  I  washed  off  de  myah  back,  an' 
got  drownded. 

"  I  'member  comin'  up  an'  hollerin'  agin  for 
help,  but  I  know  den'  'tain'  no  use,  dee  ain'  no 
help  den,  an'  I  got  to  pray  to  Gord,  an'  den  some'n 
hit  me  an'  I  went  down  agin,  an' — de  next  thing 
I  know  I  wuz  in  de  bed,  an'  I  heah  'em  talkin' 
'bout  wherr  I  dead  or  not,  an'  I  ain'  know  myself 
tell  I  taste  de  whiskey  dee  po'rin'  down  my  jug 
ular. 

"An'  den  dee  tell  me  'bout  how  when  I  hol 
lered  Marse  George  tun  back  an'  struck  out  for 
me  for  life,  an'  how  jes  as  I  went  down  de  last  time 
he  cotch  me  an'  helt  on  to  me  tell  we  wash  down 
to  whar  de  bank  curve,  an'  dyah  de  current  wuz 
so  rapid  hit  yuck  him  off  Reveller  back,  but  he 
helt  on  to  de  reins  tell  de  horse  lunge  so  he  hit 
him  wid  he  fo'  foot  an'  breck  he  collar-bone,  an' 
den  he  had  to  let  him  go,  an'  jes  helt  on  to  me ; 
an'  den  we  wash  up  agin  de  bank  an'  cotch  in  a 
tree,  an'  de  mens  got  dyah  quick  as  dee  could,  an' 
when  dee  retched  us  Marse  George  wuz  holdin' 
on  to  me,  an'  had  lie  arm  wropped  roun'  a  limb, 


"  UNC'   EDINBURG'S  DROWNDIN'"        77 

an'  we  wuz  lodged  in  de  crotch,  an'  bofe  jes  as 
dead  as  a  nail;  an'  de  myah  she  got  out,  but  Rev 
eller  he  wuz  drownded,  wid  his  foot  cotch  in  de 
rein  an'  de  saddle  tunned  onder  he  side;  an'  dee 
ain'  know  wherr  Marse  George  ain'  dead  too, 
'cause  he  not  only  drownded,  but  he  lef  arm  broke 
up  nigh  de  shoulder. 

"An'  dee  say  Miss  Charlotte  she  'mos'  'stracted; 
dat  de  fust  thing  anybody  know  'bout  it  wuz  when 
some  de  servants  bust  in  de  hall  an'  holler,  an'  say 
Marse  George  an'  me  bofe  done  washed  'way  an' 
drownded,  an'  dat  she  drapt  down  dead  on  de  flo', 
an'  when  dee  bring  her  to  she  'low  to  Miss  Lucy  dat 
she  de  'casion  on  he  death  ;  an'  dee  say  dat  when 
de  mens  wuz  totin'  him  in  de  house,  an'  wuz  shuf- 
flin'  de  feets  not  to  meek  no  noige,  an'  a  little 
piece  o'  wet  blue  silk  drapt  out  he  breast  whar 
somebody  picked  up  an'  gin  Miss  Lucy,  Miss 
Charlotte  breck  right  down  agin  ;  an'  some  on  'em 
say  she  sutney  did  keer  for  him ;  an'  now  when 
he  layin'  upstairs  dyah  dead,  hit  too  late  for  him 
ever  to  know  it. 

"Well,  suh,  I  couldn'  teck  it  in  dat  Marse  George 
and  Reveller  wuz  dead,  an'  jes  den  somebody  say 
Marse  George  done  comin'  to  an'  dee  gi'  me  so 
much  whiskey  I  went  to  sleep. 

"  An'  next  mornin'  I  got  up  an'  went  to  Marse 
George  room,  an'  see  him  layin'  dyah  in  de  bed, 
wid  he  face  so  white  an'  he  eyes  so  tired-lookin', 
an'  he  ain'  know  me  no  mo'  'n  ef  he  nuver  see 
me,  an'  I  couldn'  stan'  it ;  I  jes  drap  down  on  de 


78  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

flo'  an'  bust  out  cryin'.  Gord !  suh,  I  couldn' 
help  it,  'cause  Reveller  wuz  drownded,  an'  Marse 
George  he  wuz  mos'  gone. 

"An'  he  came  nigher  goin'  yit,  'cause  he  had 
sich  a  strain,  an'  been  so  long  in  de  water,  he  heart 
done  got  numbed,  an'  he  got  'lirium,  an'  all  de  time 
he  thought  he  tryin'  to  git  'cross  de  river  to  see 
Miss  Charlotte,  an'  hit  so  high  he  kyarn  git  dyah. 

"  Hit  sutney  wuz  pitiful  to  see  him  layin'  dyah 
tossin'  an'  pitchin',  not  knowin'  whar  he  wuz,  tell 
it  teck  all  Mr.  Braxton  an'  me  could  do  to  keep 
him  in  de  bed,  an'  de  doctors  say  he  kyarn  hoi' 
out  much  longer, 

"  An'  all  dis  time  Miss  Charlotte  she  wuz  gwine 
'bout  de  house  wid  her  face  right  white,  an'  Nancy 
say  she  don'  do  nuttin  all  day  long  in  her  room  but 
cry  an'  say  her  pra'rs,  prayin'  for  Marse  George, 
whar  dyin'  upsteairs  by  'count'  o'  not  knowin' 
she  love  him,  an'  I  tell  Nancy  how  he  honin'  all 
de  time  to  see  her,  an'  how  he  constant  cravin' 
her  name. 

"  Well,  so  twuz,  tell  he  mos'  done  wyah  heself 
out ;  an'  jes  lay  dyah  wid  his  face  white  as  de  pil 
low,  an'  he  gret  pitiful  eyes  rollin'  'bout  so  rest 
less,  like  he  still  lookin'  for  her  whar  he  all  de 
time  callin'  her  name,  an'  kyarn  git  'cross  dat 
river  to  see. 

"An*  one  evenin'  'bout  sunset  he  'peared  to  be 
gwine ;  he  weaker'n  he  been  at  all,  he  ain'  able  to 
scuffle  no  mo',  an'  jes  layin'  dyah  so  quiet,  an' 
presney  he  say,  lookin'  mighty  wistful: 


EDINBURGH  DROU'NDIN'"        79 

"  '  Edinburg,  I'm  goin'  to-night;  ef  I  don't  git 
'cross  dis  time,  I'll  gin't  up.' 

"  Mr.  Braxton  wuz  standin'  nigh  de  head  o'  de 
bed,  an'  he  say,  '  Well,  by  Gord !  he  shell  see 
her  ! ' — jes  so.  An'  he  went  out  de  room,  an'  to 
Miss  Charlotte  do',  an'  call  her,  an'  tell  her  she 
got  to  come,  ef  she  don't,  he'll  die  dat  night ;  an' 
fust  thing  I  know,  Miss  Lucy  bring  Miss  Char 
lotte  in,  wid  her  face  right  white,  but  jes  as  tender 
as  a  angel's,  an'  she  come  an'  stan'  by  de  side  de 
bed,  an'  lean  down  over  him,  an'  call  he  name, 
'  George  !  ' — jes  so. 

"  An'  Marse  George  he  ain'  answer ;  he  jes  look 
at  her  study  for  a  minute,  an'  den  he  forehead  got 
smooth,  an'  he  tun  he  eyes  to  me,  an'  say,  'Edin 
burg,  I'm  'cross.'  '* 


MEH    LADY 


MEH  LADY 


A  Story  of  the  War 

]ON'  dat  Phil  go  'stracted  when  he  gits 
a  pike  on  de  een  o*  dis  feller !  " 

The  speaker  was  standing  in  the 
dogwood  bushes  just  below  me,  for  I 
was  on  the  embankment,  where  the  little  foot-path 
through  the  straggling  pines  and  underbrush  ran 
over  it.  He  was  holding  in  his  hand  a  newly- 
peeled  cedar  fishing- pole,  while  a  number  more 
lay  in  the  path  at  the  foot  of  the  old  redoubt. 

I  watched  for  a  moment  in  silence,  and  then 
said: 

"  Hello  !  Uncle,  what  are  you  doing  ?  " 
"  Gittin'  fishin'-poles  for  de  boys,  suh,"  he  an 
swered  promptly  and  definitely.     "  We's  'spectin' 
'em  soon."     Then  he  added  confidentially  : 

"  Dee  won'  have  none  from  nowhar  else,  suh ; 

dee  done  heah  dee  ma  tell  how  Marse  Phil  used  to 

git  poles  right  heah  on  dis  ridge,  an'  dee  oon'  fling 

a  line  wid  nay  urr  sort  o'  poles  at  all.     Dat  Phil 

83 


84  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

he  mo'  like  Marse  Phil  'n  he  like  he  pa;  some 
times  I  think  he  Marse  Phil  done  come  back  — 
he's  he  ve'y  spit  an'  image." 

"  Who  are  the  boys  ?  "  I  asked,  taking  a  seat 
on  the  moss-covered  breastwork. 

"Hi!  we  all's  boys  —  Meh  Lady's.  De  fish 
runnin'  good  now,  an'  dee'll  be  heah  toreckly.  Dee 
up  in  New  York  now,  but  me  an'  Hannah  got  a 
letter  from  'em  yistidy.  You  cyarn'  keep  'em 
dyah  long  after  de  fish  'gins  to  run ;  no  suh,  dat 
you  cyarn'.  Dat  Phil,  I  boun',  studyin'  'bout  dis 
pole  right  now."  A  short  laugh  of  delight  fol 
lowed  the  reflection. 

"  How  many  are  there  ?  " 

"  Fo'  on  'em,  suh,  wid  de  little  gal,  an'  she  jes' 
like  Meh  Lady  wuz  at  her  age,  tryin'  to  keep  up 
wid  her  brurrs,  an'  do  ev'ything  dee  do.  Lord ! 
suh,  hit  cyars  me  back  so  sometimes,  I  mos'  furgit 
de  ain'  nuver  been  no  war  nor  nuttin'.  Yes,  suh, 
dee  tu'ns  de  house  upside  down  when  dee  comes, 
jes'  like  Marse  Phil  an'  Meh  Lady.  Um  —  m  ! 
[making  that  peculiar  sound  so  indescribably  sug 
gestive],  dee  used  to  jes'  teoh  de  wull  to  pieces. 
You  see,  after  Marse  Jeems  die'  an'  lef  Mistis 
heah  wid  jes'  dem  two,  she  used  to  gi'  'em  dee 
head,  an'  dee  all  over  de  plantation.  Meh  Lady 
(de  little  white  Mistis),  in  her  little  white  apron 
wid  her  curls  all  down  in  her  eyes,  used  to  look 
white  'mong  dem  urr  chil'ns  as  a  clump  o'  black 
berry  blossoms  'mong  de  blackberries.  I  don' 
keer  what  Hannah  do  wid  dat  hyah  it  wouldn'  lay 


MEH  LADY  85 

smoove.  An'  her  eyes  !  I  do  b'lieve  she  laugh 
mo'  wid  'em  'n  wid  her  inouf.  She  wuz  de  'light 
o'  dis  plantation  !  When  she'd  come  in  you'  house 
'twuz  like  you'd  shove  back  de  winder  an'  let 
piece  o'  de  sun  in  on  de  flo' —  you  could  almos' 
see  by  her  !  An'  Marse  Phil,  he  used  to  wyah 
her  !  I  don'  keer  whar  you  see  one,  dyah  turr, 
she  lookin'  up  at  him,  pushin'  her  hyah  back  out 
her  big  brown  eyes,  an'  tryin'  to  do  jes'  what  he 
do.  When  Marse  Phil  went  byah -footed,  she  had 
to  go  byah-footed  too,  an'  she'd  foller  him  down  to 
de  mill-pond  th'oo  briers  an'  ev'ywhar,  wid  her 
little  white  foots  scratchin'  an'  gittin'  briers  in 
em ;  but  she  ain'  mine  dat  so  he  ain'  leP  her. 
Dat's  de  way  'twuz,  spang  tell  Marse  Phil  went 
to  college,  or  you  jes'  as  well  say,  tell  he  went  in 
de  army,  cause  he  home  ev'y  Christmas  an'  holi 
day  all  de  time  he  at  de  univusity,  an'  al'ays  got 
somebody  or  nurr  wid  him.  You  cyarn'  keep 
bees  'way  after  dee  fine  he  honeysuckle  bush,  an' 
dem  young  bucks  dee  used  to  be  roun'  her  con 
stant.  Hit  look  like  ef  she  drap  her  hankcher  hit 
teck  all  on  em'  to  pick  't  up.  Dee  so  perseverin' 
(Mr.  Watkins  spressly),  I  tell  Hannah  I  specks 
one  on  'em  gwine  be  Mistis'  son-in-law;  but 
Hannah  say  de  chile  jes'  'joyin'  herself  an'  pro- 
jeckin'  wid  'em,  an'  ain'  love  none  on  'em  hard  as 
Marse  Phil.  An'  so  'twuz  !  Hannah  know.  Her 
cap'n  ain'  come  yit !  \Vhen  dee  cap'n  come  dee 
know  it,  an'  ef  dee  don'  know  it  when  he  come, 
dee  know  it  p'intedly  when  he  go  'way. 


86  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

"  We  vvuz  rich  den,  quarters  on  ev'y  hill,  an* 
niggers  mo'  'n  you  could  tell  dee  names ;  dee  used 
to  be  thirty  cradlers  in  de  harves'-fiel'  an'  binders 
mo'  'n  you  kin  count. 

"Den  Marse  Phil  went  in  de  war.  You  wuz 
too  young  to  know  'bout  dat,  marster  ?  Say  you 
wuz  ?  Dat's  so  !  "  (This  in  ready  acquiescence 
to  my  reply  that  every  Southerner  knew  of  the 
war.)  "Well,  hit  'peared  like  when  it  start  de 
ladies  wuz  ambitiouser  for  it  mos'  'n  de  mens. 
Um !  dee  wuz  rank,  sho'  'nough.  At  fust  dee 
didn'  know  what  'twuz,  hit  come  so  sudden. 

"  One  mornin'  I  was  standin'  right  by  de 
po'ch,  an'  Marse  Phil  ride  up  in  de  yard.  I  see 
him  time  he  tunned  de  curve  o'  de  avenue;  I 
knew  he  seat,  'cause  I  larn  him  to  ride;  dese 
hands  set  him  up  on  de  horse  fust  time  he  ever 
tetch  de  saddle,  when  he  little  fat  legs  couldn' 
retch  to  de  little  skeurts.  Well,  I  call  Mistis  an' 
Meh  Lady,  an'  dee  come  out  jes'  as  he  gallop  up 
in  de  yard.  He  speak  to  me,  an'  run  up  de  gre't 
steps,  an'  Mistis  teck  him  right  in  her  arms,  an' 
helt  him  farst,  an'  when  she  le'  him  go  her  face 
look  mighty  cu'yus ;  an'  when  dee  went  into  de 
house  I  notice  Marse  Phil  right  smart  taller'n  he 
wuz  at  Christmas,  an'  he  han'  'em  in  stately  like 
he  pa. 

"  'Twuz  he  done  come  home  to  go  in  de  army, 
an'  he  done  stop  in  Richmon'  to  git  he  permission, 
'cause  he  feared  he  ma  oon'  let  him  go  bedout  it; 
an'  he  say,  Mr.  Watkins  an'  heap  o'  de  boys  done 


MEH  LADY  87 

lef  an'  gone  home  to  raise  companies.  Mistis  — 
Hannah  say  —  grieve  might'ly  when  tain'  nobody 
see  her,  an'  she  got  her  do'  locked  heap,  sayin' 
her  prars  for  him ;  but  she  ain'  say  a  wud  'bout 
he  goin',  she  nor  Meh  I^ady  nurr  —  dee  jes'  dat 
ambitious  'bout  it.  De  thorybreds  goes  wid  dee 
heads  up  till  dee  drap,  you  know. 

"  After  dat  you  ain'  see  nuttin'  but  gittin  ready ; 
cuttin'  an'  sewin',  an'  meckin'  tents,  an'  bandages, 
an'  uniforms,  an'  lint  —  'twuz  wuss'n  when  dee 
meckin'  up  de  folks'  winter  clo'es !  an'  when 
Marse  Phil  fetch  he  s'o'de  home  an'  put  on  he 
boots  an'  spurs  whar  I  done  black,  an'  git  he  seat 
on  Paladin,  twarn'  nay  han'  on  de  place  but  what 
say  Marse  Phil  'bleeged  to  whup  'em  if  dee  come 
close  enough.  Well,  so  he  went  off  to  de  war,  an' 
Left-hand  Torm  went  wid  him  to  wait  on  him  an' 
ten'  to  de  horses.  Mistis  an'  Meh  Lady  ain'  had 
time  to  cry  tell  dee  rid  roun'  de  curve,  an'  Marse 
Phil  tu'n  an'  wave  he  hat  to  'em  stan'in  dyah  on  de 
po'ch ;  an'  den  Mistis  tu'n  roun'  an'  walk  in  de 
house  right  quick  wid  her  mouf  wuckin',  an'  lock 
herse'f  in  her  chamber,  an'  Meh  Lady  set  down 
on  the  steps  an'  cry  by  herse'f. 

"  Dat  wuz  de  een  o'  de  ole  times,  an'  dem  whar 
ain'  nuver  had  dee  foots  to  git  'quainted  wid  de 
ground  wuz  stomped  down  in  de  dut. 

"Oh!  yes,  suh,  he  come  back,"  said  he  pres 
ently,  in  answer  to  a  question  from  me,  "but  de 
war  had  been  gwine  on  for  mo'  'n  a  year  befo'  he 
did.  Heaps  o'  urr  soldiers  used  to  come ;  dee'd 


88  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

kiver  up  de  gre't  road  an'  de  plantation  sometimes, 
an'  eat  up  ev'ything  on  de  place.  But  Marse 
Phil  he  ain'  nuver  git  home ;  he  'bleeged  to  stay 
to  keep  de  Yankeys  back;  he  wid  Gener'l  Jack 
son,  an'  he  fightin'  all  de  time ;  he  git  two  or  th'ee 
balls  th'oo  he  clo'es  an'  he  cap  —  he  write  we  all 
'bout  it ;  two  bring  de  blood,  but  not  much,  he 
say,  dee  jes'  sort  o'  bark  him.  Oh  !  dee  wuz  jes' 
p'intedly  notifyin'  him ;  ev'y  chance  dee'd  git 
dee'd  plump  at  him  cuz  he  de  main  man  same  as 
when  you'd  plump  at  de  middle  man.  But  dat 
ain'  pester  him,  chile ! 

"  But  one  mornin'  when  we  ain'  heah  from  him 
in  long  time  an'  think  he  up  in  de  valley,  Marse 
Phil  ride  right  up  in  de  yard,  an'  Mistis'  face  light 
up  to  see  him  tell  she  look  mos'  like  a  young 
ooman.  He  say  he  ain'  got  long  to  stay,  dat  de 
army  gwine  down  de  big  road,  an'  he  'bleeged  to 
git  right  back  to  he  bat'ry  —  he  jes'  ride  'cross  to 
see  he  ma  an'  Meh  Lady  an'  all  on  us,  he  say,  an' 
he  mighty  hongry,  'cause  he  ain'  had  nuttin'  to 
eat  sense  early  de  day  befo',  an'  he  want  me  to 
feed  Paladin  at  de  rack.  An'  Meh  Lady,  chile ! 
she  lef'  him  walkin'  'bout  in  de  house  wid  he  ma, 
wid  he  arm  roun'  her,  an'  twis'in'  he  mustache, 
whar  showin'  leetle  sense  he  sich  a  man,  an'  axin' 
he  ma  don't  she  think  it  a  fine  mustache,  dat  all 
de  girls  say  'tis,  an'  axin'  'bout  ev'ybody ;  an'  she 
come  out  an'  'tend  to  gittin'  him  some'n'  to  eat 
wid  her  own  hands,  an'  he  sut'n'y  did  eat  hearty ; 
an'  den  he  come  'way,  an'  he  stoop  down  an'  kiss 


MEH  LADY  89 

he  ma  an'  Meh  Lady,  an'  tell  'em  he  gwine  to  be 
a  cun'l  one  dese  days ;  an'  Mistis  she  ain'  able  to 
say  nuttin',  but  jes'  look  at  him  wistful  as  he 
went  down  de  steps,  den  she  ran  down  after 
him  an'  ketch  him  after  he  git  on  de  groun',  an' 
kiss  him  an'  breck  out  cryin'.  She  say  she  ain' 
begrudge  him,  but  she  love  him  so  much.  He 
kiss  her  mighty  sorf  two  or  th'ee  times,  an'  den 
she  let  him  go,  an'  he  come  an'  git  on  he  horse  an' 
rid  'way  at  a  gallop  out  de  back  gate  wid  he  cap 
on  de  side  he  head,  an'  dee  went  in  de  house,  an' 
dat  horse  warn'  go  up  de  stable  right  den. 

"  De  nex'  day  we  hear  de  cannons  'way  down 
de  country  jes'  like  thunder  right  study,  an'  Mis 
tis  and  Meh  Lady  dee  set  on  de  po'ch  an'  listen 
to  'em  wid  dee  face  mighty  solemn  all  day  long. 
An'  dat  night  'bout  de  fust  rooster-crow,  Left-hand 
Torm  come  home  on  de  gray,  an'  knock  at  Mistis' 
winder,  an'  say  Marse  Phil  clone  shoot  in  de  breast, 
an'  he  don't  know  wherr  he  dead  or  not ;  he  say 
he  warn'  dead  when  he  come  'way,  but  de  doctor 
wuz  wid  him,  an'  he  had  sont  him  after  he  ma  to 
come  to  him  at  once,  an'  he  had  been  ridin'  hard 
all  night  long  ever  sence  jes'  befo'  sunset;  an' 
Torm  say  he  bat'ry  wuz  de  fust  on  de  groun',  an' 
he  post  it  on  de  aidge  o'  de  woods  in  a  oat-fieP, 
like  cradlers,  you  know,  an'  he  drive  de  enemy 
out  dee  breas'wucks,  an'  he  see  him  when  he  lead 
he  bat'ry  'cross  de  oat-fiel',  he  guns  all  six  in  a 
strainin'  gallop,  an'  he  and  Paladin  in  de  lead 
cheerin',  wid  bullits  an'  shells  hailin'  all  roun' 


9o  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

him;  an'  he  wuz  de  fust  man  in  de  redoubt,  he 
say,  an'  he  fall,  he  say,  jes'  as  he  jump  he  horse 
over,  an'  den  he  lay  dyah,  he  say,  an'  fight  he 
guns  tell  he  faint.  An'  Torm  say  de  gener'l  say 
he'd  ruther  been  Marse  Phil  fightin'  he  bat'ry  dat 
day  den  'a'  been  President  de  Confederate  States. 

"  Well,  suh,  Mistis  she  had  jump  out  o'  bed  de 
fust  step  o'  Torm  in  de  yard ;  she  hadn'  even  teck 
off  her  clo'es,  an'  she  jes'  stand  still  like  she  ain' 
heah  good,  wid  her  face  lookin'  like  she  done 
dead.  Meh  Lady  she  tell  Torm  to  tell  me  to  git 
de  kerridge  as  soon  as  I  kin,  an'  to  tell  her  mammy 
please  to  come  hyah  quick. 

"  An'  when  day  broke  I  wuz  standin'  at  de  gate 
wid  de  kerridge  ;  done  feed  my  horses  an'  a  good 
bag  o'  clean  oats  in  de  boot.  Mistis  she  come  out 
wid  Meh  Lady  an'  Hannah,  an'  her  face  sut'n'y 
wuz  grievious.  I  ain'  know  tell  I  see  de  way  she 
look  how  it  hu't  her,  but  I  been  see  dead  folks 
look  better'n  she  look  den.  All  she  say  wuz: 

"'Try  an'  git  me  dyah,  Billy;'  an'  I  say, 
'Yes'm,  I'm  gwine  to  ef  Gord'll  le'  me.'  I  did 
git  her  dyah,  too;  ef  I  didn'  meek  dem  horses 
flinder ! 

"  But  dead  mens  !  I  niver  see  as  many  in  my 
life  as  I  see  dat  evenin'.  Amb'lances  an'  waggins 
full  on  'em,  an  dem  whar  jes'  good  as  dead;  de 
road  wuz  chocked  up  wid  'em !  Dee  all  know 
Marse  Phil  bat'ry ;  dee  say  hit  de  fust  in  de  fight 
yistidy  an'  it  cut  all  to  pieces;  an'  pres'n'y  a 
gent'man  whar  I  ax  as  he  gallop  past  me  rein  up 


AfEff  LADY  91 

he  horse  an'  say  he  know  him  well,  an'  he  wuz 
shot  yistidy  an'  left  on  de  fiel' ;  he  done  teck  off  he 
cap  when  he  see  Mistis  an'  Meh  Lady  in  de  ker- 
ridge,  an'  he  voice  drapt  mighty  low,  an'  he  say 
Marse  Phil  wuz  shot  'bout  fo'  o'clock  leadin'  he 
bat'ry,  an'  he  did  splendid  wuck. 

"  He  voice  sort  o'  'passionate,  an'  he  face  so 
pitiful  when  he  say  dat,  I  know  'tain'  no  hope  to 
save  him,  an'  ef  I  git  Mistis  dyah  in  time,  dat's  all. 

"  '  Drive  on  quick,'  says  Mistis,  an'  I  druv  on: 
I  done  meek  up  my  mine  to  git  she  an'  Meh  Lady 
to  Marse  Phil,  whar  I  'sponsible  for  dat  night,  ef 
Gord'll  le'  me.  An'  I  did,  too,  mon  !  I  see  de  sol 
diers  all  'long  de  road  look  at  me,  an'  some  on  'em 
holler  to  me  dat  I  cyarn'  go  dat  way;  but  I  ain' 
pay  no  'tendon  to  'em,  I  jes'  push  on ;  an'  pres'- 
n'y  risin'  a  little  ridge  I  see  de  house  de  gent'man 
done  tell  me  'bout,  settin'  in  deoat-fiel'  'bout  a  half  a 
mile  ahead,  an'  I  jes'  pushin'  for  it,  when  th'ee 
or  fo'  mens  standin'  dyah  in  de  road  'yant  de  ridge, 
a  little  piece  befo'  me,  say,  *  Halt !  '  I  ain'  pay 
no  'tention  to  'em,  jes'  drive  on  so,  an'  dee  holler, 
'  Halt '  ag'in ;  an'  when  I  ain'  stop  den  nuther, 
jes'  drive  on  right  study,  a  speckle-face  feller  run 
up  an'  ketch  Remus'  head,  an'  anurr  one  done 
p'int  he  gun  right  at  me.  I  say,  '  Whynt'  you  le' 
go  de  horse,  mon  !  ain'  you  got  no  better  sense'n 
to  ketch  holt  Mistis'  horses  ?  juckin'  dat  horse' 
mouf  dat  way  !  Le'  go  de  horse'  head,  don'  you 
heahme?' 

"I  clar !  ef  I   warn'  dat  outdone,  I  wuz  jes' 


92  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

'bout  to  wrop  my  whip  'roun'  him,  when  Mistis 
open  de  do'  an'  step  out.  She  say  she  wan'  go 
on ;  dee  say  she  cyarn'  do  it ;  den  she  say  she 
gwine,  dat  her  son  dyin'  dyah  in  de  house  an'  she 
gwine  to  him.  She  talk  mighty  sorf  but  mighty 
'termined  like.  Dee  sort  o'  reason  wid  her,  but 
she  jes'  walk  on  by  wid  her  head  up,  an'  tell  me 
to  foller  her,  an'  dat  I  did,  mon !  an'  leP  'em  dyah 
in  de  road  holdin'  dee  gun.  De  whole  army 
couldn'  'a'  keep  her  fum  Marse  Phil  den. 

"I  got  to  de  house  toreckly  an'  drive  up  nigh 
as  I  could  fur  de  gre't  trenches  'cross  de  yard, 
whar  look  like  folks  been  ditchin'.  A  gent'man 
come  to  de  do',  an'  Mistis  ax,  '  Is  he  'live  yet  ? ' 
Me  say,  *  Yes,  still  alive  ; '  an'  she  say,  '  Where  ? ' 
an'  went  right  in  an'  Meh  Lady  wid  her ;  an'  I 
heali  say  he  open  he  eyes  as  she  went  in,  an'  sort 
o'  smile,  an'  when  she  kneel  down  an'  kiss  him  he 
whisper  he  ready  to  go  den,  an'  he  wuz,  too. 

"  He  went  dat  night  in  he  mother'  arms,  an' 
Meh  Lady  an'  Hannah  at  he  side,  like  I  tole  'em 
I  was  gwine  do  when  I  start  fum  home  dat  morn- 
in',  an'  he  wuz  jes'  as  peaceful  as  a  baby.  He 
tole  he  ma  when  he  wuz  dyin'  dat  he  had  try  to  do 
he  duty,  an'  that  'twuz  jes'  like  ole  times,  when 
he  used  to  go  to  sleep  in  her  lap  in  he  own  room, 
wid  her  arms  'roun'  him.  Mistis  sen'  me  fur  a 
amb'lance  dat  night,  an'  we  put  him  in  de  coffin 
next  mornin'  an'  start,  'cause  Mistis  she  gwine 
cyar  Marse  Phil  home  an'  lay  him  in  de  gyardin, 
whar  she  kin  watch  him. 


MEH  LADY  93 

"  We  travel  all  day  an'  all  night,  an'  retch  home 
'bout  sunrise,  and  den  we  had  to  dig  de  grave. 

"  An'  when  we  got  home  Mistis  she  had  de 
coffin  brought  in,  and  cyared  him  in  he  own  room 
while  we  waitin',  and  she  set  in  dyah  all  day  long 
wid  him,  and  he  look  like  a  boy  sleepin'  dyah  so 
young  in  he  little  gray  jacket  wid  he  s'o'de  'cross 
he  breas'.  We  bury  him  in  de  gyardin  dat  evenin, 
and  dyah  warn'  'nough  gent'mens  in  de  county 
to  be  he  pall-bearers,  so  de  hands  on  de  place 
toted  him.  And  it  ease'  me  might'ly  to  git  meh 
arm  onder  him  right  good,  like  when  he  wuz  a 
little  chap  runnin'  'roun'  callin'  me  '  Unc*  Billy,' 
and  pesterin'  me  to 'go  fishin'.  And  de  gener'l 
write  Mistis  a  letter  and  say  de  Confede'cy  moan 
he  loss,  and  he  meek  him  a  cun'l  in  de  oat-fiel' 
de  day  he  wuz  shot,  and  hit's  dat  on  he  tombstone 
now ;  you  kin  go  dyah  in  de  gyardin  an'  read  it. 

"And  we  hang  he  s'o'de  on  de  wall  in  he  own 
room  over  de  fireplace,  and  dyah  it  hang  now  for 
to  show  to  de  boys  what  a  soldier  he  wuz. 

"  Well,  after  dat,  things  sut'n'y  went  bad.  De 
house  looked  dat  lonesome  I  couldn'  byah  to  look 
at  it ;  ev'ything  I  see  look'  like  Marse  Phil  jes* 
done  put  it  down,  or  jes'  comin'  after  it. 

Mistis  and  Meh  Lady  dee  wuz  in  deep  mo'nin', 
of  co'se,  and  it  look  like  de  house  in  mo'nin',  too. 
And  Mistis  her  hyah  got  whiter  and  whiter.  De 
on'y  thing  'peared  to  gi'  her  any  peace  o'  mine  wuz 
settin'  in  Marse  Phil'  room.  She  used  to  set  dyah 
all  dav,  sewin'  for  de  soldiers.  She  ain'  nuver  let 


94  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

nobody  tetch  dat  room ;  hit  al'ays  sort  o'  secret 
to  her  after  dat.  And  Meh  Lady  she  took  holt 
de  plantation,  an'  ole  Billy  wuz  her  head  man. 

"  Dat's  de  way  'twuz  for  two  years  tell  mos'  in 
de  summer.  Den  — 

"  Hit  happen  one  Sunday :  I  wuz  jes'  come  out 
meh  house  after  dinner,  gwine  to  de  stable.  I 
warn'  studyin'  'bout  Yankeys,  I  wuz  jes'  studyin' 
'bout  how  peaceable  ev'ything  wuz,  when  I  heah 
somebody  hollerin',  and  heah  come  two  womens 
'cross  de  hill  from  de  quarters,  hard  as  dee  could 
tyah,  wid  dee  frocks  jes'  flying.  One  o'  de  maids 
in  de  yard  de  first  to  ketch  de  wud,  an'  she  say, 
'  De  Yankeys  ! '  And  'fo'  Gord !  de  wuds  warn' 
out  her  mouf  befo'  de  whole  top  o'  de  hill  wuz 
black  wid  'em.  Yo'  could  see  'em  gallopin'  and 
heah  de  s'o'des  rattlin*  spang  at  de  house.  Meh 
heart  jump  right  up  in  meh  mouf.  But  I  step 
back  in  meh  house  and  got  meh  axe.  And  when 
I  come  out,  de  black  folks  wuz  all  run  out  dee 
houses  in  de  back  yard,  talkin'  and  predictifyin' ; 
and  some  say  dee  gwine  in  de  house  and  stan' 
behin'  Meh  Lady;  and  some  dee  gwine  git  onder 
de  beds ;  and  some  wuz  pacifyin'  'em,  and  sayin', 
dee  ain'  gwi'  do  nuttin'.  I  jes'  parse  long  by  'em 
right  quick,  and  went  'cross  de  yard  to  de  house, 
and  I  put  meh  head  in  Marse  Phil'  room  whar 
dee  settin',  and  say : 

"  '  De  Yankeys  yander  comin'  down  de  hill.' 

"You  ought  to  'a'  seen  dee  face.  Meh  Lady' 
hands  drapt  in  her  lap,  an'  she  looked  at  Mistis  so 


MEH  LADY  95 

anxious,  she  skeer'  me.  But  do'  Mistis'  face  tu'n 
mighty  white,  't  warn'  mo'  'n  a  minute.  She  riz 
right  quiet,  and  her  head  wuz  jes'  as  straight  as 
Meh  Lady.  She  says  to  her: 

"  *  Hadn'  you  better  stay  here  ?  ' 

"  '  No/  says  she,  '  I  will  go  with  you.' 

"  'Come  on,'  says  she,  and  dee  walked  out  de 
do',  and  locked  it  behine  her,  and  Mistis  put  de 
key  in  her  pocket. 

"  Jes'  as  she  got  clyah,  dee  rid  into  de  yard,  an' 
in  a  minute  it  wuz  jes'  as  full  of  'em  as  a  bait-go'd 
is  o'  wurrms,  ridin'  'ginst  one  anurr,  an'  hollerin' 
an'  laughin'  an'  cussin' ;  an'  outside  de  yard,  an' 
todes  de  stables,  dee  wuz  jes'  swarmin'.  Dee  ain' 
ax  nobody  no  odds  'bout  nuttin',  an'  as  to  key,  dee 
ain'  got  no  use  fur  dat;  jes'  bu'st  a  do'  down 
quicker'n  you  kin  onlock  it.  Dee  wuz  in  dee 
smoke-house  an'  de  store-room  quicker'n  I  been 
tellin'  you  'bout  it.  But  dat  ain'  'sturb  Mistis, 
nor  Meh  Lady  nurr.  Dee  wuz  standin'  in  de 
front  do'  jes'  as  study  as  ef  dee  wuz  waitin'  fur 
somebody  whar  come  to  dinner.  Dee  come 
pourin*  up  de  steps  an'  say  dee  gwine  th'oo  de 
house. 

"  « There  is  no  one  in  there,'  said  Mistis. 

"  '  What  are  you  doin'  on  de  po'ch  ? '  says  one, 
sort  o'  impident  like,  wid  a  thing  on  he  shoul 
der. 

"  '  I  always  receive  my  visitors  at  my  front  do',' 
says  Mistis. 

"  '  Don't  you  invite  'em  in  ? '  says  he,  sort  o' 


96  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

laughin'  an'  pushin'  by  her.  Jes'  den  I  heah  a 
noige,  an'  we  tu'n  roun',  an'  de  hall  wuz  right  full 
on  'em  —  had  come  in  de  back  do'.  Mistis  tunned 
right  roun'  an'  walk  into  de  house  right  quick, 
puttin'  Meh  Lady  'long  befo'  her.  Right  straight 
th'oo  'em  all  she  walk,  an'  up  to  Marse  Phil'  room 
do',  whar  she  stan'  wid  her  back  'g'inst  it,  holdin' 
de  side.  Dee  wuz  squandered  all  over  de  house 
by  dis  time  an'  teckin'  ev'ything  dee  want  an'  didn' 
want,  an'  what  dee  didn'  teck  dee  wuz  cuttin'  up. 
But  soon  as  dee  see  Mistis  at  Marse  Phil  do',  dee 
come  right  up  to  her. 

"  '  I  want  to  go  in  dyah,'  says  one  —  de  same 
one  whar  had  spoke  so  discontemptious  to  de 
Mistis  on  de  po'ch. 

"  '  You  cyarn'  do  it,'  says  Mistis. 

"  'Well,  I'm  goin'  to,'  says  he. 

"'You  are  not,'  says  Mistis,  lookin'  at  him 
right  study,  wid  her  head  up  an'  her  eyes  blazin'. 
I  had  my  axe  in  my  han',  an'  I  wuz  mighty 
skeered,  but  I  know  ef  he  had  lay  his  han'  on  de 
Mistis  I  was  gwine  split  him  wide  open.  He 
know  better'n  to  tetch  her,  do'.  He  sort  o' 
parly,  like  he  warn1  swade  her,  an'  all  de  urrs 
stop  an'  listen. 

"  '  Who's  in  dyah  ?  '  says  he. 

"  '  No  one,'  says  Mistis. 

"  '  Well,  what's  in  dyah  ?  '  says  he. 

"  « The  memory  of  my  blessed  dead,'  says  Mistis. 
She  speak  so  solemn,  hit  'peared  to  kind  o'  stall 
him,  an'  he  give  back  an'  mumble  some'n'.  Pres'* 


MEH  LADY  97 

n'y  do'  anurr  one  come  up  fum  nigh  de  do'  an'  say 
to  Mistis : 

"  '  Where  is  you'  son  ?     We  want  him.' 

"  'Beyond  your  reach,'  says  Mistis,  her  voice 
kine  o'  breakin',  an'  Meh  Lady  bu'st  out  cryin'. 

"  '  His  grave  is  in  de  gyardin','  she  says,  wid 
her  hankcher  to  her  eyes. 

"  Gord  !  suh!  I  couldn'  stan'  no  mo'.  I  jes' 
cotch  a  grip  on  my  axe,  an'  I  ain'  know  what  mout 
'a'  happen',  but  he  took  off  he  hat  an'  tu'n  'way. 
An'  jes'  den  sich  a  racket  riz  nigh  de  do',  I  thought 
must  be  some  on  'em  got  to  killin'  one  'nurr.  I 
heah  somebody's  voice  rahin'  an'  pitchin'  and  callin' 
'em  thieves  an'  hounds,  an'  in  a  minute,  whack, 
whack,  thump,  thump,  I  heah  de  licks  soun'  like 
he  hittin'  on  barrel-head,  an'  I  see  a  s'o'de  flyin' 
like  buggy-wheel  spokes,  an'  de  men  in  de  hall 
dee  jes'  squander ;  an'  as  de  larst  one  jump  off  de 
po'ch,  a  young  gent'man  tunned  an'  walked  in  de 
do',  puttin'  he  s'o'de  back  in  he  scabbard.  When 
he  got  't  in,  he  teck  off  he  cap,  an'  walkin'  'bout 
half-way  up  to  we  all,  he  say  : 

"  '  I  kinnot  'pologize  'nough,  madam,  for  dese 
out'ages ;  dee  officers  ought  to  be  shot  for  tole- 
ratin'  it.  it  is  against  all  orders.' 

"  '  I  don't  know  ;  it  is  our  first  'speeyence,'  says 
Mistis.  '  We  are  much  ondebted  to  you,  though, 
suh.' 

"  '  Mayn't  I  interduce  myself?  '  says  he,  comin* 
up  a  little  closer  to  we  all,  an'  meckin'  anurr  bow 
very  grand.  '  I  think  I  may  claim  to  be  a  kins- 


98  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

man  at  least  of  my  young  Southern  cousin  here  ' 
(meckin'  a  bow  to  Meh  Lady  whar  wuz  standin' 
lookin'  at  him) ;  'I'm  half  Virginian  myself:  I 
am  Captain  Wilton,  the  son  of  Colonel  Churchill 
Wilton,  of  de  ole  army,'  says  he. 

"  '  It  is  impossible,'  says  Mistis,  bowin'  low'n 
him.  '  Churchill  Wilton  was  a  Virginian,  do'  he 
lived  at  de  Norf ;  he  wuz  my  husband's  cousin  an' 
my  dear  friend.'  (He  come  from  New  York  or 
somewhar,  an'  he  had  been  co'tin'  Mistis  same 
time  Marster  co't  her.  I  know  him  well :  he  gi' 
me  a  yaller  satin  weskit ;  a  likely  gent'man  too, 
but  Marster  beat  him.  You  know  he  gwine  do 
dat.)  'But  you  cannot  be  his  son,  nor  a  Vir 
ginian;  Virginians  never  invade  Virginia.' 

"  '  But  I  am,  neverdeless,'  says  he,  sort  o' 
smilin';  'an'  I  have,  as  a  boy,  often  hear1  him 
speak  of  you.' 

"  '  We  claim  no  kinsmen  among  Virginia's  en 
emies,'  says  Meh  Lady,  speakin'  fur  de  fust  time, 
wid  her  eyes  flashin',  an'  teckin'  holt  of  Mistis' 
han',  an'  raisin'  herse'f  up  mighty  straight.  She 
wuz  standin'  by  her  ma,  I  tell  you ;  dee  bofe  had 
de  same  sperit  —  de  chip  don'  fly  fur  fum  de 
stump.  But  he  wuz  so  likely-lookin',  standin' 
dyah  in  de  gre't  hall  meckin'  he  bow,  an'  sayin'  he 
Cap'n  Wilton,  I  mos'  think  she'd  'a'  gi'n  in  ef  it 
hadn'  been  fur  dat  blue  uniform  an'  dat  s'o'de  by 
he  side.  De  wud  seemed  to  hut  him  mons'ous 
do',  an'  he  raise  he  head  up  mighty  like  we  all 
folks  when  dee  gittin'  outdone.  Mistis,  she  add 


MEH  LADY  99 

on  to  Meh  Lady,  an'  answer  he  'quest  'bout  din 
ner.  Ez  he  had  come  to  teck  possession,  says  she, 
de  whole  place  wuz  his,  an'  he  could  give  what 
orders  he  please,  on'y  she  an'  Meh  Lady  would 
'quest  to  be  excused ;  an'  wid  dat  she  took  Meh 
Lady'  han',  an'  wid  a  gre't  bow  start  to  sweep  by 
him.  But  dee  ain'  git  ahead  o'  him  ;  befo'  dee  git 
de  wuds  out  dee  mouf,  he  meek  a  low  bow  hisse'f 
an'  say  he  beg  dee  pardin,  he  cyarn'  intrude  on 
ladies,  an'  wid  dat  he  sort  o'  back  right  stately  to 
de  front  do',  an'  wid  anurr  bow  done  gone,  he 
saber  clam'rin  down  de  steps.  I  clar',  I  wuz  right 
sorry  fur  him,  an'  I  b'lieve  Mistis  an'  Meh  Lady 
dee  wuz  too,  'cause  he  sut'n'y  did  favor  Marse 
Phil  when  he  r'ar  he  head  up  so  tall,  an'  back  out 
dat  do'  so  gran'.  Meh  Lady  mine  smite  her  good, 
'cause  she  tu'n  to  me  an'  tell  me  to  go  an'  tell 
'Lijah  to  see  ef  he  couldn'  get  him  some'n',  an1 
call  him,  an'  pres'n'y  she  come  in  de  dinin'-room 
lookin'  herse'f.  After  'Lijah  set  de  place  do',  an' 
went  out  to  look  fur  him,  dyah  wuz  a  soldier 
standin'  at  ev'y  po'ch  right  solum,  an'  anurr  one 
at  de  kitchin ;  an'  when  we  come  to  fine  out,  dee 
wuz  guards  Cap'n  Wilton  done  pos'  dyah  to  p'teck 
de  house,  but  he  done  gone  'long,  so  I  give  he 
snack  to  de  guards. 

"  Well,  dee  took  mos'  all  de  corn,  dat  our  folks 
done  lef,  out  de  corn-house,  an'  after  a  while  mos' 
on  'em  bridle  up  an'  went  'long,  an'  den  at  larst 
de  guards  dee  went  'long  'hind  de  turrs  ;  an'  de 
larst  one  hadn'  hardly  got  to  de  een  de  avenue 


ioo  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

when  heah  come  over  de  hill  some  o'  our  men 
ridin'  'long  de  road  fum  turr  way.  Meh  Lady 
wuz  standin'  in  de  yard  looking  mighty  'strustid 
at  de  way  dee  done  do  de  place,  'cause  dee  had 
done  teoh  it  all  to  pieces  ;  an'  her  eyes  light  up  at 
de  sight  o'  our  men,  an'  she  sort  o'  wave  her  hank- 
cher  at  'em,  an'  dee  wuz  comin'  down  de  hill  turr 
side  de  creek  right  study,  when,  as  Cord  would 
have  it,  we  heah  a  horse  foot  flyin',  an'  right  fum 
turr  way  right  down  de  avenue,  he  horse  in  a 
lather,  come  dat  same  young  gent'man,  Cap'n 
Wilton.  Our  mens  see  him  at  de  same  time,  an' 
start  to  gallopin'  down  de  hill  to  git  him.  He  ain' 
mine  'em  do' ;  he  gallop  up  to  de  gate  an'  pull  a 
letter  out  he  pocket.  Meh  Lady  she  was  so  con- 
sarned  'bout  him,  she  sort  o'  went  todes  him, 
callin'  to  him  to  do  pray  go  'way.  He  ain'  mine 
dat ;  he  jes'  set  still  on  he  nick-tail  bay,  an'  hole 
he  paper  todes  her  right  patient,  tell  she  run  down 
de  walk  close  up  to  him,  beggin'  him  to  go  'way. 
Den  he  teck  off  he  cap  an'  ben'  over,  an'  present 
her  de  paper  he  got,  an'  tell  her  hit  a  letter  he  got 
fum  Gen'l  McClenan,  he  come  back  to  gi'  her. 
Meh  Lady,  chile  !  she  so  busy  beggin'  him  to  go 
'way  an'  save  hisse'f,  she  forgit  to  thank  him.  She 
jes'  pleadin'  fur  him  to  go,  an'  hit  'pear  like  de  mo' 
she  beg,  de  mo'  partic'ler  he  settin'  clyah  at  de 
gate  lookin'  at  her,  not  noticin'  our  mens,  wid  a 
sort  o'  cu'yus  smile  on  he  face,  tell  jes'  as  our 
mens  gallop  up  in  one  side  de  yard,  an'  call  to  him 
to  s'render,  he  say  «  Good-by,'  an'  tu'nned  an'  lay 


MEH  LADY 


he  gre't  big  bay  horse'  focy.  to  tie  groun',  De^ 
shoot  at  him  an'  ride  after  h:rp>*Aw'-,Meh  Ludysljc 
holler  to  'em  not  to  shoot  him  ;  but  she  needn't 
fluster  herse'f,  dee  jes'  as  well  try  to  shoot  de  win', 
or  ride  to  ketch  a  bud,  de  way  dat  horse  run.  He 
wuz  a  flyer  !  He  run  like  he  jes'  start,  an'  de 
Cap'n  done  ride  him  thirty  miles  sence  dinner  to 
git  dat  paper  from  Gen'l  McClenan  fur  Meh  Lady. 

"  Well,  suh,  dat  night  de  plantation  wuz  fyah 
'live  wid  soldiers  —  our  mens  ;  dee  wuz  movin'  all 
night  long,  jes'  like  ants,  an'  all  over  todes  de  gre't 
road  de  camp-fires  look  like  stars  ;  an'  nex'  morn- 
in'  dee  wuz  movin'  'fo'  daylight,  gwine  'long  down 
de  road,  an'  'bout  dinner-time  hit  begin,  an'  from 
dat  time  tell  in  de  night,  right  down  yander  way, 
de  whole  uth  wuz  rockin'.  You'd  a-thought  de 
wull  wuz  splittin'  open,  an'  sometimes  ef  you'd 
listen  right  good  you  could  heah  'em  yellin',  like 
folks  in  de  harves'-nel'  hollerin'  after  a  ole  hyah. 

"  De  nex'  day  we  know  we  all  done  scotch 
'em,  an'  dee  begin  to  bring  de  wounded  an'  put 
'em  in  folks'  houses.  Dee  bring  'em  in  amb'- 
lances  an'  stretchers,  tell  ev'y  room  in  de  house 
wuz  full  up,  'sep'  on'y  Mistis'  chahmber  an'  Meh 
Lady'  room  an'  Marse  Phil'  room.  An'  dyah 
wuz  de  grettest  cuttin'  up  o'  sheets  an'  linen  an' 
things  fur  bandages  an'  lint  you  ever  see.  Mistis 
an'  Meh  Lady  even  cut  up  dee  under-clo'es  fur 
lint,  'cause  you  know  dee  wuz  'bleeged  to  have 
linen,  an'  Mistis  an'  Meh  Lady  teoh  up  dee  under- 
clo'es  tell  dee  got  smack  out.  Hannah  had  to  go 


rN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

sfftt*r  wards -an'  gi'  'em  some  dee  done  gi'her. 
l,  so'  'fcv"iz,  tie  -bouse  wuz  full  like  a  hospittle, 
an'  doctors  gvvine  in  and  out,  an'  ridin'  back'ards 
an'  for'ards,  an'  cuttin'  off  legs  an'  arms,  an'  hardly 
got  time  to  tu'n  'roun.'  'Twuz  mighty  hard  on  Meh 
Lady,  but  she  had  grit  to  stan'  it.  Hi !  de  ve'y 
mornin'  after  de  battle  a  doctor  come  out  de  room 
whar  a  wounded  gent'man  wuz,  an'  ketch  sight  o' 
Meh  Lady  parsin'  th'oo  de  hall,  an'  say,  ' I  want 
you  to  help  me,'  an'  she  say,  'What  you  want  me 
to  do?'  an'  he  say,  'You've  got  to  hold  a  man's 
arm,'  an'  she  say,  'To  bandage  it?'  an'  he  say, 
"  No,  to  cut  it  off; '  an'  she  say  she  cyarn'  do  it, 
an'  he  say  she  kin  an'  she  must.  Den  she  say  she'll 
faint,  an'  he  say  ef  she  do  he'll  die,  an'  he  am'  got 
a  minute  to  spyah  now.  Den  ef  she  am'  walk  right 
in  an'  hole  he  arm,  tell  de  doctor  cut 't  off  an'  dress 
it,  an'  den  widout  a  wud  she  say,  '  Is  you  done  ? ' 
an'  he  say,  '  Yes  ; r  an'  she  walk  out  an'  cross  de 
yard  to  her  mammy'  house  right  quick,  an'  fall 
right  dead  down  on  de  flo'.  I  wan'  dyah,  but 
Hannah  sut'n'y  wuz  outdone  'bout  dat  thing,  an', 
you  know,  she  ain'  nuver  let  Mistis  know  a  wud 
'bout  it,  not  nuver — she  so  feared  she'd  'sturb 
her !  Dat's  de  blood  she  wuz ;  an'  dem  wuz 
times  folks  wa'n't  clem  kind  !  Well,  dat  same 
evenin' — de  day  after  de  battle  —  Meh  Lady  she 
ax  one  de  doctors  ef  many  o'  de  cav'lry  wuz  into 
de  fight,  an'  he  say  she'd  think  so  ef  she'd  been 
dyah ;  dat  de  cav'lry  had  meek  some  splendid 
charges  bofe  sides  ;  dat  de  Yankee  cav'lry  had 


MEN  LADY  103 

charge  th'oo  a  bresh  o'  pines  on  de  'streme  left 
spang  up  'g'inst  our  breas'wucks,  an'  a  young 
Yankee  cap'n  in  de  front  o'  all,  wid  he  cap  on  he 
s'o'de,  on  a  nick-tail  bay,  had  led  'em,  an'  had 
spur  he  horse  jam  up  to  our  line,  an'  bofe  had  fall 
up  'g'inst  de  breas'wucks.  I  tell  you  he  sut'n'y 
wuz  pleased  wid  him ;  he  say  he  nuver  see  a 
braver  feller  ;  he  had  made  a  p'int  to  try  an'  save 
him  (an'  he'd  like  to  'a'  had  dat  horse  too),  but  he 
was  shot  so  bad  he  fear'd  'tain'  much  show  fur 
him,  as  he  sort  o'  knocked  out  he  senses  when  he 
fall  as  well  as  shot.  An'  he  say,  «  He  sich  a  likely 
young  feller,  an'  meek  sich  a  splendid  charge,  I 
teck  a  letter  out  he  pocket  to'dentify  him,  an'  heah 
'tis  now,'  he  says  ;  '  Cap'n  Shelly  Wilton,'  he  says, 
handin'  it  to  Meh  Lady. 

"  When  he  say  dat,  Meh  Lady  ain'  say  nuttin', 
an'  Mistis  she  tu'n  'roun'  an'  walk  in  Marse  Phil' 
room  right  quick  an'  shet  de  do'  easy.  Den 
pres'n'y  she  come  out  an'  ax  Meh  Lady  to  have 
de  kerridge  gitten,  an'  den  she  walk  up  to  de  doc 
tor,  an'  ax  him  won'  he  go  down  wid  her  to  de 
place  whar  he  leP  dat  young  Yankee  cap'n  an' 
bring  him  dyah  to  her  house.  An'  she  say,  he  her 
husband'  cousin,  an*  she  onder  obligations  to  him. 
So  dee  went,  honey,  down  to  de  battle-fiel'  all 
roun'  de  road,  an'  'twuz  mos'  wuss'n  when  we  all 
went  down  to  de  Peninsular  after  Marse  Phil,  de 
road  wuz  so  full  of  wounded  mens ;  an'  when  we 
fine  him  'twuz  right  dyah  at  dat  gap  —  he  fall 
right  dyah  whar  you  settin',  an'  dee  had  cyar'ed 


X04  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

him  over  de  hill ;  an'  do'  all  say  he  'bleeged  to 
die,  Mistis  she  had  him  tecken  up  an'  brung  right 
to  her  house.  An'  when  we  got  home  she  lead  de 
way  an'  went  straight  long  th'oo  de  hall ;  an', 
befo'  Gord !  she  opened  de  do'  herse'f  an'  cyar 
him  right  in  an'  lay  him  right  down  into  Marse 
Phil'  baid.  Some  say  hit  'cause  he  marster'  kin- 
folk;  but  Hannah,  she  know,  an'  she  say  hit 
'cause  Mistis  grievin'  'bout  Marse  Phil.  I  ain' 
know  huccome  'tis ;  but  dyah  into  Marse  Phil' 
baid  dee  put  him,  an'  dyah  he  stay  good,  an'  Mistis 
an'  Meh  Lady  to  nuss  him  same  like  he  wuz  Marse 
Phil  hisse'f.  'Twuz  a  spell  do',  I  tell  you  !  Dyah 
wuz  all  de  turrs  well  an'  gone  befo'  he  know 
wherr  he  dead  or  'live.  Mistis,  after  de  battle,  an' 
all  de  'citement  sort  o'  let  down  ag'in,  an'  had  to 
keep  her  room  right  constant,  and  all  de  nussin' 
an'  waitin'  fall  on  Meh  Lady  an'  Hannah,  an'  dee 
sut'n'y  did  do  dee  part  faithful  by  all  on'  em,  till 
fust  one  an  den  anurr  went  away ;  cause,  you 
know,  we  couldn'  tell  when  de  Yankees  wuz 
gwine  to  come  an'  drive  our  mens  back,  an'  our 
soldiers  didn'  want  to  be  tecken  pris'ners,  an  dee 
moved  'way.  An'  pres'n'y  dyah  warn'  none  lef 
but  jes'  Cap'n  Wilton,  an'  he  still  layin'  dyah  in 
de  baid,  tossin'  an'  talkin',  wid  he  eyes  wide  open 
an'  ain'  know  nuttin'.  De  doctor  say  he  wound 
better,  but  he  got  fever,  an'  he  cyarn'  hole  out 
much  longer ;  say  he'd  been  dead  long  ago  but  he 
so  strong.  An'  one  night  he  went  to  sleep,  an'  de 
doctor  come  over  fum  camp  an'  say  he  wan'  nuver 


MEH  LADY  105 

gwine  wake  no  mo'  he  reckon,  jes'  a  byah  chance 
ef  he  ain'  'sturbed.  An'  he  ax  Meh  Lady  kin  she 
keep  him  'sleep  she  reckon,  an'  she  say  she'll  try, 
an'  she  did,  mon.  Mistis  she  wuz  sick  in  baid  an* 
dyah  ain' nobody  to  nuss  him,  skusin'  Meh  Lady, 
an'  she  set  by  dat  baid  all  dat  night  an'  fan  him  right 
easy  all  night  long;  all  night  long,  all  night  long 
she  fan  him,  an'  jes'  befo'  sun-up  he  open  he  eyes 
an'  look  at  her.  Hannah  she  jes'  gone  in  dyah, 
thinkin'  de  chile  tire'  to  death,  an'  she  say  jes'  as 
she  tip  in  he  open  he  eyes  an'  lu  look  at  Meh 
Lady  so  cu'yus,  settin'  dyah  by  him  watchin' ; 
den  he  shet  he  eyes  a  little  while  an'  sleep  a  little 
mo' ;  den  he  open  'em  an'  look  ag'in  an'  sort  o' 
smile  like  he  know  her ;  an'  den  he  went  to  sleep 
good,  an'  Hannah  she  tuck  de  fan  an'  sont  de  chile 
to  her  own  room  to  baid.  Yes,  suh,  she  did  dat 
thing,  she  did !  An'  I  heah  him  say  afterwards, 
when  he  wake  up,  all  he  could  think  'bout  wuz  he 
done  git  to  heaven. 

"Well,  after  dat,  Meh  Lady  she  lef  him  to 
Mistis  an'  Hannah,  an'  pres'n'y  he  git  able  to  be 
helped  out  on  de  big  po'ch  an'  kivered  up  wid  a 
shawl  an'  things  in  a  big  arm-cheer.  An'  'cause 
Mistis  she  mos'  took  to  her  baid,  an'  keep  her 
room  right  constant,  Meh  Lady  she  got  to  enter 
tain  him.  Oh !  she  sut'n'y  did  pomper  him, 
readin'  to  him  out  o'  books,  an'  settin  by  him  on 
de  po'ch.  You  see,  he  done  git  he  pay-role,  an' 
she  'bleeged  to  teck  keer  on  him  den,  'cause  she 
kind  o'  'sponsible  for  him,  an'  he  sut'n'y  wuz  sat- 


106  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

isfied,  layin'  dyah  wid  he  gray  eyes  follorin'  her 
study  ev'ywhar  she  tu'n,  jes'  like  some  dem  pic 
tures  hangin'  up  in  de  parlor. 

"  I  'members  de  fust  day  he  walked.  He  done 
notify  her,  and  she  try  to  'swade  him,  but  he  mon- 
sus  sot  in  he  mind  when  he  done  meek  't  up,  and 
she  got  to  gi'  in,  like  women-folks  after  dee  done 
'spressify  some ;  and  he  git  up  and  walk  down  de 
steps,  an'  'cross  de  yard  to  a  rose-bush  nigh  de 
gate  wid  red  roses  on  it,  she  walkin'  by  he  side 
lookin'  sort  o'  anxious.  When  he  git  dyah,  dee 
talk  a  little  while ;  den  he  breck  one  an  gi'  't  to 
her,  and  dee  come  back.  Well,  he  hadn'  git  back 
to  he  cheer  befo'  heah  come  two  or  th'ee  gent'mens 
ridin'  th'oo  de  place,  one  on  'em  a  gcner'l,  and 
turrs,  dem  whar  ride  wid  'em,  our  mens,  and  dee 
stop  at  de  gate  to  'quire  de  way  to  de  hewn-tree 
ford  down  on  de  river,  and  Meh  Lady  she  went 
down  to  de  gate  to  ax  'em  to  'light,  and  to  tell  'em 
de  way  down  by  de  pond  ;  and  when  she  standin' 
dyah  shadin'  de  sun  from  her  eyes  wid  a  fan,  and 
de  rose  in  her  hand  ('cause  she  ain'  got  on  no  hat), 
de  gener'l  say  : 

"  '  You  have  a  wounded  soldier  dyah  ?  ' 

"  '  Yes,  he's  a  wounded  Federal  officer  on  pa 
role,'  she  says;  and  he  say,  teckin'  oft" he  hat: 

"  '  Dee  ain'  many  soldiers  dat  woulcln'  envy  him 
he  prison.'  And  den  she  bows  to  him  sort  o' 
'fusin'  like,  and  her  face  mos'  blushin'  as  de  rose 
de  Cap'n  done  gi'  her  what  she  holdin' ;  and  when 
dee  done  rid  'long,  an  ain'  stop,  she  ain'  gone 


MEH  LADY  107 

back  to  de  po'ch  toreckly ;  she  come  out,  and  gi' 
me  a  whole  parecel  o'  directions  'bout  spadin'  de 
border  whar  I  standin'  heahin'  't  all,  wid  de  rose 
done  stickin'  in  her  bosom. 

"  You'd  think  de  way  Meh  Lady  read  to  him 
dyah  on  de  big  po'ch,  she  done  forgit  he  her  pris- 
'ner  and  Virginia'  enemy.  She  ain' do' ;  shejes' 
as  rapid  to  teck  up  for  de  rebels  as  befo'  he  come ; 
I  b'lieve  she  rapider  ;  she  call  herse'f  rebel,  but  she 
ain'  le'  him  name  it.  I  'member  one  mornin'  she 
come  in  out  de  fiel'  an'  jump  off  her  horse,  an'  set 
down  by  him  in  her  ridin' -frock,  and  she  call  her 
se'f  a  rebel,  an'  pres'n'y  he  name  us  so  too,  an'  she 
say  he  sha'n't  call  'em  so,  an'  he  laugh  an'  call 
'em  so  ag'in,  jes'  dyahsen,  an'  she  git  up  an'  walk 
right  straight  in  de  house,  head  up  in  de  air.  He 
tell  her  de  rebels  wuz  'treatin',but  she  ain' dignify 
to  notice  dat.  He  teck  up  a  book  an'  'pose  hese'f, 
but  he  ain'  read  much ;  den  he  try  to  sleep,  but  de 
flies  'pear  to  pester  him  might'ly;  den  Hannah 
come  out,  an'  he  ax  her  is  she  see  Meh  Lady  in 
dyah.  Hannah  say,  '  Nor,'  an'  den  he  ax  her 
won'  she  please  go  an'  ax  her  to  step  dyah  a  min 
ute  ;  an'  Hannah  ain'  spicion  nuttin'  and  went,  an' 
Meh  Lady  say,  *  No,  she  won','  'cause  he  done 
aggrivate  her ;  an'  den  he  write  her  a  little  note 
an'  ax  Hannah  to  gi'  't  to  her,  an'  she  look  at  it 
an*  send  't  back  to  him  wiclout  any  answer.  Den 
he  git  mad:  he  twis'  roun'  in  he  cheer  might'ly; 
but  'tain'  do  him  no  good,  she  ain'  come  back  all 
day,  not  tell  he  had  to  teck  he  pencil  an'  write  her 


io8  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

a  sho'  'nough  letter ;  den  pres'n'y  she  come  out  on 
de  po'ch  right  slow,  dressed  all  in  white,  and  tell 
him  sort  o'  forgivin'  dat  he  ought  to  be  'shamed 
o'  hisse'f,  an'  he  sort  o'  laugh',  an'  look  like  he 
ain'  'shamed  o'  nuttin'. 

"  Dee  sut'n'y  wuz  gittin'  good-neighborly  'long 
den.  And  he  watch  over  her  jes'  like  she  got  her 
pay-role  'stid  o'  him.  One  day  a  party  o'  Yankees, 
jes'  prowlin'  roun'  after  devilment,  come  gallopin' 
in  th'oo  de  place,  an'  down  to  de  stable,  and  had 
meh  kerridge-horses  out  befo'  I  know  dee  dyah. 
I  run  in  de  house  and  tell  Meh  Lady.  De  Cap'n 
he  wuz  in  he  room  and  he  heah  me,  and  he  come 
out  wid  he  cap  on,  bucklin'  on  Marse  Phil'  s'o'de 
whar  he  done  teck  down  off  de  wall,  and  he  order 
me  to  come  'long,  and  tell  Meh  Lady  not  to  come 
out ;  and  down  de  steps  he  stride  and  'cross  de 
yard  out  th'oo  de  gate  in  de  road  to  whar  de  mens 
wuz  wid  meh  horses  at  de  fence,  wid  he  face  right 
set.  He  ax  'em  one  or  two  questions  'bout  whar 
dee  from  dat  mornin' ;  den  he  tell  'em  who  he  is 
and  dat  dee  cyarn'  trouble  nuffin'  heah.  De  man 
wid  meh  horses  see  de  Cap'n  mighty  pale  an' 
weak-lookin',  and  he  jes'  laugh,  an'  gether  up  de 
halters  gittin'  ready  to  go,  an'  call  de  urrs  to  come 
'long.  Well,  suh,  de  Cap'n'  eye  flash  ;  he  ain'  say 
a  wud ;  he  jes  rip  out  Marse  Phil'  s'o'de  an'  clap 
it  up  'ginst  dat  man'  side,  an'  cuss  him  once  !  You 
ought  to  'a'  seen  him  le'  dem  halters  go  !  '  Now,' 
says  de  Cap'n,  '  you  men  go  on  whar  you  gwine ; 


MEH  LADY  109 

dyah  de  road  ;  I  know  you,  an1  ef  I  heah  of  you 
stealin'  anything  I'll  have  you  ev'y  one  hung  as 
soon  as  I  get  back.  Now  go.'  An'  I  tell  you, 
mon !  dee  gone  quick  enough. 

"  Oh!  I  tell  you  he  sut'n'y  had  de  favor  o'  our 
folks ;  he  ain'  waste  no  wuds  when  he  ready ;  he 
quick  to  r'ar,  an'  rank  when  he  git  up,  jes'  like  all 
we  fam'bly;  Norf  or  Souf,  dee  ain'  gwine  stand 
no  projeckin';  dee's  Jack  Robinson. 

"  So  'twuz,  Meh  Lady  sort  o'  got  used  to  'pend- 
in'  on  him,  an'  'dout  axin  her  he  sort  o'  sensed 
when  to  'vise  her. 

"  Sometimes  dee'd  git  in  de  boat  on  de  pond,  an' 
she'd  row  him  while  he'd  steer,  'cause  he  shoulder 
ain'  le'  him  row.  I  see  'em  of  a  evelin'  jes'  sort 
o'  floatin'  down  deah  onder  de  trees,  nigh  de  bank, 
or  'mong  dem  cow-collards,  pullin'  dem  water- 
flowers, —  she  ain'  got  no  hat  on,  or  maybe  jes'  a 
soldier's  cap  on  her  head, —  an'  hear  'em  talkin' 
'cross  de  water  so  sleepy,  an'  sometimes  he'd  meek 
her  laugh  jes'  as  clear  as  a  bud.  Dee  war'n  no 
pay -role  den  ! 

"  All  dis  time,  do',  she  jes'  as  good  a  rebel  as 
befo'  he  come.  De  wagons  would  come  an'  haul 
corn,  an'  she'd  'tend  to  cookin'  for  de  soldiers  all 
night  long,  jes'  same,  on'y  she  ain'  talk  to  him 
'bout  it,  an'  he  sort  o'  shet  he  eye  and  read  he 
book  like  he  ain'  see  it.  She  ain'  le'  Cap'n  Wilton 
nor  Cap'n  nuttin'  else  meek  no  diffunce  'bout  dat; 
she  jes'  partic'lar  to  him  'cause  he  her  cousin,  dat's 


no  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

all,  an'  got  he  pay-role  ;  we  all  white  folks  al'ays 
set  heap  o'  sto'  by  one  nurr,  dat's  all  she  got  in 
her  mind. 

"  I  almos'  begin  to  spicionate  some'n'  myse'f, 
but  Hannah  she  say  I  ain'  nuttin'  but  a  ole  nigger- 
fool,  I  ain'  know  nuttin'  'bout  white  folks'  ways  ; 
an'  sho"  'nough,  she  done  prove  herse'f.  Hit  come 
'long  todes  de  larst  o'  Fall,  'bout  seedin'-wheat 
time;  de  weather  been  mighty  warm,  mos'  like 
summer,  an'  ev'ything  sort  o'  smoky-hazy,  like 
folks  bunnin'  bresh  ;  an'  one  day  d'  come  fum  de 
post-office  a  letter  for  de  Cap'n,  an'  he  face  look 
sort  o'  comical  when  he  open  it,  an'  he  put  it  in  he 
pocket ;  an'  pres'n'y  he  say  he  got  to  go  home,  he 
got  he  exchangement.  Meh  Lady  ain'  say  nuttin' ; 
but  after  while  she  ax,  kind  o'  perlite,  is  he  well 
enough  yet  to  go.  He  ain'  meek  no  answer,  an' 
she  ain'  say  no  mo',  den  bofe  stop  talkin'  right  good. 

"  Well,  dat  evenin'  dee  come  out,  and  set  on  de 
po'ch  awhile,  she  wid  her  hyah  done  smoove ;  den 
he  say  some'n  to  her,  an'  dee  git  up  an'  went  to 
walk ;  an'  fust  he  walk  to  dat  red  rose-bush  an' 
pull  two  or  th'ee  roses,  den  dee  went  saunterin' 
right  'long  down  dis  way,  he  wid  de  roses  in  he 
han',  lookin'  mighty  handsome.  Pres'n'y  I  hed 
to  come  down  in  de  fiel',  an'  when  I  was  gwine 
back  to  de  house  to  feed,  I  strike  for  dis  parf,  an'  I 
wuz  walkin'  'long  right  slow  ('cause  I  had  a  misery 
in  dis  hip  heah),  an'  as  I  come  th'oo  de  bushes  I 
heah  somebody  talkin',  an1  dyah  dee  wuz  right  at 
de  gap,  an'  he  wuz  holdin'  her  hand,  talkin'  right 


MEH  LADY  in 

study,  lookin'  down  at  her,  an'  she  lookin'  'way 
fum  him,  ain'  sayin'  nuttin',  jes'  lookin'  so  mis- 
er'ble  wid  de  roses  done  shatter  all  over  in  her  lap 
an'  on  de  groun'.  I  ain'  know  which  way  to  tu'n, 
an'  I  heah  him  say  he  want  her  to  wait  an'  le'  him 
come  back  ag'in,  an'  he  call  her  by  her  name,  an' 
say, '  Won't  you ! '  an'  she  wait  a  little  while  an'  den 
pull  her  hand  away  right  slow ;  den  she  say,  sort 
o'  whisperin',  she  cyarn'.  He  say  some'n  den  so 
hoarse  I  ain'  meck't  out,  an'  she  say,  still  lookin' 
'way  fum  him  on  de  groun',  dat  she  cyarn'  marry 
a  Union  soldier.  Den  he  le'  go  her  hand  an'  rar 
hese'f  up  sort  o'  straight,  an'  say  some'n'  I  ain' 
meek  out  'sep'  hit  would  'a'  been  kinder  ef  she  had 
let  him  die  when  he  wuz  wounded,  'stid  o'  wound- 
in'  him  all  he  life.  When  he  say  dat,  she  sort  o' 
squinch  'way  from  him  like  he  nios'  done  hit  her, 
an'  say  wid  her  back  todes  him  he  ought  not  to 
talk  dat  way,  dat  she  know  she  been  mighty 
wicked,  but  she  ain'  know  'bout  it,  an'  maybe — . 
I  ain'  know  what  she  say,  'cause  she  start  to  cryin' 
right  easy,  an'  he  teck  her  han'  ag'in  an'  kiss  it,  an' 
I  slip  roun'  an'  come  home,  an'  lef  'em  dyah  at  de 
gap,  she  cryin'  an'  he  kissin'  her  han'. 

"  I  drive  him  over  to  de  depot  dat  night,  an'  he 
gi'  me  a  five  dollars  in  gold,  an'  say  I  must  teck 
keer  o'  de  ladies,  I'se  dee  main'  pendence;  an'  I 
tell  him, '  Yes,  I  know  I  is,'  an'  he  sut'ny  wuz 
sorry  to  tell  me  good -by. 

"  An'  Hannah  say  she  done  tell  me  all  'long  de 
chile  ain'  gwine  mortify  herself  'bout  no  Yankee 


na  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

soldier,  don'  keer  how  pretty  an'  tall  he  is,  an'  how 
straight  he  hole  he  head,  an'  dat  she  jes'  sorry  he 
gone  'cause  he  her  cousin.  I  ain'  know  so  much 
'bout  dat  do.  Dat  what  Hannah  al'ays  say  —  she 
tell  me. 

"  Well,  suh,  ef  'twarn'  lonesome  after  dat !  Hit 
'peared  like  whip'o'will  sing  all  over  de  place  ; 
ev'ywhar  I  tu'n  I  ain'  see  him.  I  didn'  know  till 
he  gone  how  sot  we  all  dun  git  on  him  ;  'cause  I 
ain'  de  on'y  one  done  miss  him ;  Hannah  she 
worryin'  'bout  him,  Mistis  she  miss  him,  an'  Meh 
Lady  she  gwine  right  study  wid  her  mouf  shet 
close,  but  she  cyarn'  shet  her  eye  on  me :  she 
miss  him,  an'  she  signify  it  too.  She  tell  Mistis 
'bout  he  done  ax  her  to  marry  him  some  day  an' 
to  le'  him  come  back,  an'  Mistis  ax  what  she  say, 
an'  she  tell  her,  an'  Mistis  git  up  out  her  cheer 
an'  went  over  to  her,  an'  kiss  her  right  sorf ;  and 
Hannah  say  (she  wuz  in  de  chahmber,  an'  she 
heah  'em),  she  say  she  broke  out  cryin',  an'  say 
she  know  she  ought  to  hate  him,  but  she  don't, 
an'  she  cyarn',  she  jes'  hate  an'  'spise  herself;  an' 
Mistis  she  try  to  comfort  her ;  an'  she  teck  up  de 
plantation  ag'in,  but  she  ain'  never  look  jes'  like 
she  look  befo'  he  come  dyah  an'  walk  in  de  hall, 
so  straight,  puttin'  up  he  s'o'de,  an'  when  she  ain' 
claim  kin  wid  him  back  out  an'  say  he  cyarn'  in 
trude  on  her,  an'  den  ride  thirty  mile'  to  git  dat 
paper  an'  come  an'  set  on  he  horse  at  de  gate  so 
study  and  our  mens  gallopin'  up  in  de  yard  to  get 
him.  She  wuck  mighty  study,  and  ride  Dixie 


MEH  LADY  113 

over  de  plantation  mighty  reg'lar,  'cause  de  war 
done  git  us  so  low,  wid  all  dem  niggers  to  feed, 
she  hed  to  tu'n  roun'  right  swift  to  git  'em  victuals 
an'  clo'es  ;  but  she  ain'  look  jes'  like  she  lookbefo' 
dat,  an'  she  sut'n'y  do  nuss  dat  rose-bush  nigh  de 
gate  induschus. 

"  But  dem  wuz  de  een  o'  de  good  times. 

"  Hit  'peared  like  dat  winter  all  de  good  luck 
done  gone  'way  fum  de  place ;  de  weather  wuz  so 
severe,  an'  we  done  gi'  de  ahmy  ev'ything,  de  feed 
done  gi'  out,  an'  'twuz  rank,  I  tell  you  !  Mistis 
an'  Meh  Lady  sent  to  Richmon'  an'  sell  dee  bonds, 
an'  some  dee  buy  things  wid  to  eat,  an'  de  rest  dee 
gin  de  Gov'ment,  an'  teck  Confed'ate  money  for 
'em.  She  say  she  ain'  think  hit  right  to  widhold 
nuttin',  an'  she  teck  Marster'  bonds  an'  sell  'em 
fur  Confed'ate  Gunboat  stock  or  some'n'.  I  use' 
to  heah  'em  talkin'  'bout  it. 

"  Den  de  Yankees  come  an'  got  my  kerridge- 
horses  !  Oh!  ef  dat  clidn' hu't  me  !  I  ain' git  over 
it  yit.  When  we  heah  dee  comin'  Meh  Lady  tell 
me  to  hide  de  horses  ;  hit  jes'  as  well,  she  reckon. 
De  fust  time  dee  come,  dee  wuz  all  down  in  de 
river  pahsture,  an'  dee  ain'  see  'em,  but  now  dee 
wuz  up  at  de  house.  An'  so  many  been  stealed  I 
used  to  sleep  in  de  stalls  at  night  to  watch  'em ; 
so  I  teck  'em  all  down  in  de  pines  on  de  river,  an' 
I  down  dyah  jes'  as  s'cure  as  a  coon  in  de  holler, 
when  heah  dee  come  tromplin'  and  gallinupin',  an' 
teck  'em  ev'y  one,  an'  'twuz  dat  weevly  black 
nigger  Ananias  done  show  'em  vvhar  de  horses  is, 


1 14  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

an'  lead  em  dyah.  He  always  wuz  a  mean  po' 
white  folks  nigger  anyways,  an'  'twuz  a  pity  Mistis 
ain'  sell  him  long  ago.  Ef  I  couldn'  a  teoh  him 
all  to  pieces  dat  day  !  I  b'lieve  Meh  Lady  mo' 
'sturb  'bout  'Nias  showin'  de  Yankees  whar  de 
horses  is  den  she  is  'bout  dee  teckin'  'em.  'Nias 
he  ain'  nuver  dyah  show  he  face  no  mo',  he  went 
off  wid'  em,  an'  so  did  two  or  th'ee  mo'  o'  de  boys. 
De  folks  see  'em  when  dee  parse  th'oo  Quail 
Quarter,  an'  dee  'shamed  to  say  dee  gone  off,  so 
dee  tell  'em  de  Yankees  cyar'  'em  off,  but  'twarn' 
nothin'  but  a  lie ;  I  know  dee  ain'  cyar'  me  off; 
dee  ax  me  ef  I  don'  wan'  go,  but  I  tell  'em 
•Nor.' 

"  Things  wuz  mons'ous  scant  after  dat,  an'  me 
an'  Meh  Lady  had  hard  wuck  to  meek  buckle  and 
tongue  meet,  I  tell  you.  We  had  to  scuffle  might'ly 
dat  winter. 

"  Well,  one  night  a  cu'yus  thing  happen.  We 
had  done  got  mighty  lean,  what  wid  our  mens  an' 
Yankees  an'  all ;  an'  de  craps  ain'  come  in,  an'  de 
team  done  gone,  an'  de  fences  done  bu'nt  up,  an' 
things  gettin'  mighty  down,  I  tell  you.  And  dat 
night  I  wuz  settin'  out  in  de  yard,  jes'  done  finish 
smokin',  and  studyin'  'bout  gwine  to  bed.  De 
sky  wuz  sort  o'  thick,  an'  meh  mine  wuz  runnin' 
on  my  horses,  an'  pres'n'y,  suh,  I  heah  one  on  'em 
gallopin'  tobucket,  tobucket,  tobucket,  right  swiP 
'long  de  parf  'cross  de  fieP,  an'  I  thought  to  my 
self,  I  know  Romilus'  gallop  ;  I  set  right  still,  an' 
he  come  'cross  de  branch  and  stop  to  drink  jes'  a 


MEH  LADY  115 

moufful,  an'  den  he  come  up  de  hill.  I  say,  '  Dat 
horse  got  heap  o'  sense ;  he  know  he  hot,  an'  he 
ain'  gwine  hu't  hese'f  drinkin',  don'  keer  how 
thusty  he  is.  He  gwine  up  to  de  stable  now,'  I 
say, '  an'  I  got  to  go  up  dyah  an'  le'  him  in ; '  but 
'stid  o'  dat,  he  tu'n  'roun'  by  de  laundry,  an'  come 
close  roun'  de  house  to  whar  I  settin',  an'  stop,  an' 
I  wuz  jes'  sayin',  '  Well,  ef  dat  don'  beat  any  horse 
ever  wuz  in  de  wull ;  how  he  know  I  heah  ?  ' 
when  somebody  say,  'Good-eveninV  I  sut'n'y 
wuz  disapp'inted ;  dyah  wuz  a  man  settin'  dyah  in 
de  dark  on  a  gre't  black  horse,  an'  say  he  wan1  me 
to  show  him  de  way  th'oo  de  place.  He  ax  me  ef 
I  warn'  sleep,  an'  I  tell  him, '  Nor,  I  jes'  studyin' ; ' 
den  he  ax  me  a  whole  parecel  o'  questions  'bout 
Mistis  and  Marse  Phil  an'  all,  an'  say  he  kin  to 
'em  an'  he  used  to  know  Mistis  a  long  time  ago. 
Den  I  ax  him  to  'light,  an'  tell  him  we'd  all  be 
mighty  glad  to  see  him  ;  but  he  say  he  'bleeged  to 
git  right  on ;  an'  he  keep  on  axin'  how  dee  wuz 
an'  how  dee  been,  an'  ef  dee  sick  an'  all,  an'  so 
'quisitive  ;  pres'n'y  I  ain  tell  him  no  mo'  'sep'  dat 
dee  all  well  'skusin'  Mistis ;  an'  den  he  ax  me  to 
show  him  de  way  th'oo,  an'  when  I  start,  he  ax  me 
cyarn  he  go  th'oo  de  yard,  dat  de  'rection  he  warn' 
go,  an'  I  tell  him  '  Yes,'  an'  le'  him  th'oo  de  back 
gate,  an'  he  ride  'cross  de  yard  on  de  grahss.  As 
he  ride  by  de  rose-bush  nigh  de  gate,  he  lean  over, 
an'  I  thought  he  breck  a  switch  off,  an'  I  tell  him 
not  to  breck  dat ;  dat  Meh  Lady'  rose-bush,  whar 
she  set  mo'  sto'  by  den  all  de  res' ;  an'  he  say, 


n6  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

1  'Tis  a  rose-bush,  sbo'  'nough,'  an'  he  come  'long 
to  de  gate,  holdin'  a  rose  in  he  hand.  Dyah  he 
ax  me  which  is  Mistis'  room,  and  I  tell  him,  '  De 
one  by  de  po'ch,'  an'  he  say  he  s'pose  dee  don' 
use  upstyars  much  now  de  fam'bly  so  small ;  an* 
I  tell  him,  '  Nor,'  dat  Meh  Lady'  room  right  next 
to  Mistis'  dis  side,  an'  he  stop  an'  look  good ;  den 
he  come  'long  to  de  gate,  an'  when  I  ax  him  which 
way  he  gwine,  he  say,  '  By  de  hewn-tree  ford.' 
An'  blessed  Gord !  ef  de  wud  ain'  bring  up  things 
I  done  mos'  forgit  —  dat  gener'l  ridin'  up  to  de 
gate,  an'  Meh  Lady  standin'  dyah,  shadin'  her 
eyes,  wid  de  rose  de  Cap'n  done  gi'  her  off  dat 
same  bush,  an'  de  gener'l  say  he  envy  him  he 
prison.  I  see  him  jes'  plain  as  ef  he  standin'  dyah 
befo'  me,  an'  heah  him  axin'  de  way  to  de  hewn- 
tree  ford;  but  jes'  den  I  heah  some'n  jingle,  an'  he 
jes'  lean  over  an'  poke  some'n  heavy  in  my  hand, 
an'  befo'  I  ken  say  a  wud  he  gone  gallopin'  in  de 
dark.  And  when  I  git  back  to  de  light,  I  find  six 
gre't  big  yaller  gold  pieces  in  meh  hand,  look  like 
gre't  pats  o'  butter,  an'  ef 't  hadn'  been  for  dat  I'd 
'mos'  'a'  believe'  'twuz  a  dream  ;  but  dyah  de 
money  an'  dyah  de  horse-track,  an'  de  limb  done 
pull  off  Meh  Lady'  rose-bush. 

"  I  hide  de  money  in  a  ole  sock  onder  de  j'ice, 
and  I  p'int  to  tell  Meh  Lady  'bout  it ;  but  Han 
nah,  she  say  I  ain'  know  who  'tis  —  (and  so  I  ain' 
den);  and  I  jes'  gwine  'sturb  Mistis  wid  folks 
ridin'  'bout  th'oo  de  yard  at  night,  and  so  I  ain' 
say  nuttin' ;  but  when  I  heah  Meh  Lady  grievin' 


MEH  LADY  117 

'bout  somebody  done  breck  her  rose-bush  an'  steal 
one  of  her  roses,  I  mighty  nigh  tell  her  who  I 
b'lieve  'twuz,  an'  I  would,  on'y  I  don't  orn'  aggri- 
vate  Hannah.  You  know  'twon't  do  to  aggrivate 
women-folks. 

"  Well,  'twarn'  no  gre't  while  after  dat  de  war 
broke;  'twuz  de  nex' spring  'bout  plantin'-corn 
time,  on'y  we  ain'  plant  much  'cause  de  team  so 
weak;  stealin' an' Yankee  teckin'  together  done 
clean  us  up,  an'  Mistis  an'  Meh  Lady  had  to  gi'  a 
deed  o'  struss  on  de  Ian'  to  buy  a  new  team  dat 
spring,  befo'  we  could  breck  up  de  corn-land,  an' 
we  hadn'  git  mo'  'n  half  done  fo'  Richmon'  fall 
an'  de  folks  wuz  all  free ;  den  de  army  parse  th'oo 
an'  some  on  'em  come  by  home,  an'  teck  ev'y 
blessed  Cord's  horse  an'  mule  on  de  place,  'sep' 
one  mule  —  George,  whar  wuz  bline,  an'  dee  won' 
have  him.  Dem  wuz  turrible  times,  an'  ef  Meh 
Lady  an'  Mistis  didn'  cry  !  not  'cause  dee  teck  de 
horses  an'  mules  —  we  done  get  use'  to  dat,  an'  dat 
jes'  meek  'em  mad  and  high-spirited  —  but  'cause 
Richmon'  done  fall  an'  Gener'l  Lee  surrendered. 
Ef  dee  didn'  cry !  When  Richmon'  fall  dee  wuz 
'stonished,  but  dee  say  dat  ain'  meek  no  diffunce, 
Gener'l  Lee  gwine  whip  'em  yit ;  but  when  dee 
heah  Gener'l  Lee  done  surrender  dee  gin  up; 
fust  dee  wouldn'  b'lieve  it,  but  dee  sut'n'y  wuz 
strusted.  Dee  grieve  'bout  dat  'mos'  much  as 
when  Marse  Phil  die.  Mistis  she  ain'  nuver  re- 
kiver.  She  wuz  al'ays  sickly  and  in  bed  after  dat, 
and  Meh  Lady  and  Hannah  dee  use'  to  nuss  her. 


n8  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

"After  de  fust  year  or  so  mos'  o'  de  folks  went 
away.  Meh  Lady  she  tell  'em  dee  better  go,  dat 
dee'l  fine  dem  kin  do  mo'  for  'em  'en  she  kin 
now;  heap  on  'em  say  dee  ain'  gwine  way,  but 
after  we  so  po'  dee  went  'way,  dthough  Meh  Lady 
sell  some  Mistis'  diamonds  to  buy  'em  some'n  to 
eat  while  dee  dyah. 

"  Well,  'twan'  so  ve'y  long  after  dis,  or  maybe 
'twuz  befo',  'twuz  jes'  after  Richmon'  fall,  Mistis 
get  a  letter  fum  de  Cun'l  —  dat's  Cap'n  Wilton ; 
he  done  Cun'l  den  —  tellin'  her  he  want  her  to  le' 
him  come  down  an'  see  her  an'  Meh  Lady,  an'  he 
been  love  Meh  Lady  all  de  time  sence  he  wounded 
heah  in  de  war,  an'  al'ays  will  love  her,  an'  won' 
she  le'  him  help  her  any  way;  dat  he  owe  Mistis 
an'  Meh  Lady  he  life.  Hannah  heah  'em  read  it. 
De  letter  'sturb  Mistis  might'ly,  an'  she  jes'  put  it 
in  Meh  Lady'  han's  an'  tu'n  'way  widout  a  wud. 

"  Meh  Lady,  Hannah  say,  set  right  still  a  minute 
an'  look  mighty  solemn ;  den  she  look  at  Mistis 
sort  o'  sideways,  an'  den  she  say,  'Tell  him,  No.' 
An'  Mistis  went  over  an'  kiss  her  right  sorf. 

"  An'  dat  evenin'  I  cyar  de  letter  whar  Mistis 
write  to  de  office. 

"  Well,  'twarn'  so  much  time  after  dat  dee  begin 
to  sue  Mistis  on  Marster's  debts.  We  heah  dee 
sum'  her  in  de  co't,  an'  Mistis  she  teck  to  her  bed 
reg'lar  wid  so  much  trouble,  an'  say  she  hope  she 
won'  nuver  live  to  see  de  place  sold,  an'  Meh  Lady 
she  got  to  byah  ev'ything.  She  used  to  sing  to 
Mistis  an'  read  to  her  an'  try  to  hearten  her  up, 


MEH  LADY  119 

meckin'  out  dat  'tain'  meek  no  diffunce.  Hit  did 
do',  an'  she  know  it,  'cause  we  po'  now,  sho' 
'nough ;  an'  dee  wuz  po'er  'n  Hannah  an'  me, 
'cause  de  Ian'  ain'  got  nobody  to  wuck  it  an'  no 
team  to  wuck  it  wid,  an'  we  ain'  know  who  it 
b'longst  to,  an'  hit  done  all  grow  up  in  bushes  an' 
blackberry  briers  ;  ev'y  year  hit  grow  up  mo'  an 
mo',  an'  we  gittin'  po'er  an'  po'er.  Mistis  she 
boun'  to  have  flour,  ain'  been  use  to  nuttin'  but  de 
fines'  bread,  jes'  as  white  as  you'  shu't,  an'  she  so 
sickly  now  she  got  to  have  heap  o'  things,  tell  Meh, 
Lady  fyar  at  her  wits'  een  to  git  'em.  Dat's  all  I 
ever  see  her  cry  'bout,  when  she  ain'  got  nuttin' 
to  buy  what  Mistis  want.  She  use  to  cry  'bout 
dat  dthough.  But  Mistis  ain'  know  nottin'  'bout 
dat :  she  think  Meh  Lady  got  heap  mo'n  she  is, 
bein'  shet  up  in  her  room  now  all  de  time.  De 
doctor  say  she  got  'sumption,  an'  Meh  Lady  doin' 
all  she  kin  to  keep  't  fum  her  how  po'  we  is, 
smilin'  an'  singin'  fur  her.  She  jes'  whah  herse'f 
out  wid  it,  nussin'  her,  wuckin'  fur  her,  singin'  to 
her.  Hit  used  to  hu't  me  sometimes  to  heah  de 
chile  singin'  of  a  evenin'  things  she  use  to  sing  in 
ole  times,  like  she  got  ev'ything  on  uth  same  as 
befo'  de  war,  an'  I  know  she  jes'  singin'  to  ease 
Mistis'  mine,  an'  maybe  she  hongry  right  now. 

"  'Twuz  den  I  went  an'  git  de  rest  o'  de  money 
de  Cap'n  gi'  me  dat  night  fum  onder  de  j'ice  (I 
had  done  spend  right  smart  chance  on  it  gittin' 
things,  meckin'  b'lieve  I  meek  it  on  de  farm),  an* 
I  put  it  in  meh  ole  hat'  an'  cyar  it  to  Meh  Lady, 


iao  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

'cause  it  sort  o'  hers  anyways,  an'  her  face  sort  o' 
light  up  when  she  see  de  gold  shinin',  'cause  she 
sut'n'y  had  use  for  it,  an'  she  ax  me  whar  I  git  so 
much  money,  an'  I  tell  her  somebody  gi'  't  to  me, 
an'  she  say  what  I  gwine  do  wid  it.  An'  I  tell 
her  it  hern,  an'  she  say  how,  an'  I  tell  her  I  owe 
it  to  her  for  rent,  an'  she  bu'st  out  cryin'  so  she 
skeer  me.  She  say  she  owe  us  ev'y thing  in.  de 
wull,  an'  she  know  we  jes'  stayin'  wid  'em  'cause 
dee  helpless,  an'  sich  things,  an'  she  cry  so  I 
upped  an'  tole  her  how  I  come  by  de  money,  an' 
she  stop  an'  listen  good.  Den  she  say  she  cyarn' 
tech  a  cent  o'  dat  money,  an'  she  oodn',  mon,  tell 
I  tell  her  I  wan'  buy  de  mule ;  an'  she  say  she 
consider  him  mine  now,  an'  ef  he  ain'  she  gi'  him 
to  me,  an'  I  say,  nor,  I  wan'  buy  him.  Den  she 
say  how  much  he  wuth,  an'  I  say,  he  wuth  a  hun- 
derd  dollars,  but  I  ain'  got  dat  much  right  now,  I 
kin  owe  her  de  res' ;  an'  she  breck  out  laughin', 
like  when  she  wuz  a  little  girl  an'  would  begin  to 
laugh  ef  you  please  her,  wid  de  tears  on  her  face 
an'  dress,  sort  o'  April-like.  Hit  gratify  me  so,  I 
keep  on  at  it,  but  she  say  she'll  teck  twenty  dol 
lars  for  de  mule  an'  no  mo',  an'  I  say  I  ain'  gwine 
disqualify  dat  mule  wid  no  sich  price ;  den  pres'n'y 
we  'gree  on  forty  dollars,  an'  I  pay  it  to  her,  an' 
she  sont  me  up  to  Richmon'  next  day  to  git  things 
for  Mistis,  an'  she  al'ays  meek  it  a  p'int  after  dat  to 
feed  George  a  little  some'n'  ev'y  day. 

"  Den  she  teck  de  school ;  did  you  know  'bout 
dat  ?     Dat  de  school-house  right  down  de  road  a 


MEN  LADY  tax 

little  piece.  I  reckon  you  see  it  as  you  come  'long. 
I  ain'  b'lieve  it  when  I  heah  'em  say  Meh  Lady 
gwine  teach  it.  I  say, «  She  teach  niggers !  dat 
she  ain' !  not  my  young  mistis.'  But  she  laugh 
at  me  an'  Hannah,  an'  say  she  been  teachin'  de 
colored  chil'n  all  her  life,  ain'  she  ?  an*  she  wan' 
Hannah  an'  me  to  ease  Mistis'  min'  'bout  it  ef  she 
say  anything.  I  sut'n'y  was  'posed  to  it,  do';  an* 
de  colored  chil'n  she  been  teachin'  wuz  diffunt  — 
dee  b'longst  to  her.  But  she  al'ays  so  sot  on  doin' 
what  she  gwine  do,  she  meek  you  b'lieve  she  right 
don'  keer  what  'tis ;  an'  I  tell  her  pres'n'y,  all 
right,  but  ef  dem  niggers  impident  to  her,  jes'  le' 
me  know  an'  I'll  come  down  dyah  an'  wyah  'em 
out.  So  she  went  reg'lar,  walk  right  'long  dis 
ve'y  parf  wid  her  books  an'  her  little  basket.  An' 
sometimes  I'd  bring  de  mule  for  her  to  ride  home 
ef  she  been  up  de  night  befo'  wid  Mistis ;  but  she 
wouldn'  ride  much,  'cause  she  think  George  got 
to  wuck. 

"  Tell  'long  in  de  spring  Meh  Lady  she  done 
breck  down,  what  wid  teachin'  school,  an'  settin' 
up,  an'  bein'  so  po',  stintin'  for  Mistis,  an'  her  face 
gittin'  real  white  'stid  o'  pink  like  peach-blossom, 
as  it  used  to  be,  on'y  her  eyes  dee  bigger  an'  pret- 
tier'n  ever,  'sep'  dee  look  tired  when  she  come 
out  o'  Mistis'  chahmber  an'  lean  'g'inst  de  do', 
lookin'  out  down  de  lonesome  road ;  an'  de  doctor 
whar  come  from  Richmon'  to  see  Mistis,  'cause  de 
ain'  no  doctor  in  de  neighborhood  sence  de  war, 
tell  Hannah  when  he  went  'way  de  larst  time  'tain* 


122  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

no  hope  for  Mistis,  she  mos'  gone,  an'  he  teck  her 
aside,  an'  tell  her  she  better  look  mighty  good 
after  Meh  Lady  too;  he  say  she  mos'  sick  as 
Mistis,  an'  fust  thing  she  know  she'll  be  gone  too. 
Dat  'sturb  Hannah  might'ly.  Well,  so  'tvvuz  tell 
in  de  spring.  I  had  done  plant  meh  corn,  an'  it  hed 
done  come  up  right  good;  'bout  mos'  eight  acres, 
right  below  the  barn  vvhar  de  Ian'  strong  (I  couldn' 
put  in  no  mo'  'cause  de  mule  he  wuz  mighty  ole); 
an'  come  a  man  down  heah  one  mornin',  ridin'  a 
sway-back  sorrel  horse,  an'  say  dee  gwine  sell  de 
place  in  'bout  a  mon'.  Meh  Lady  hed  gone  to 
school,  an'  I  am'  le'  him  see  Mistis,  nor  tell  him 
whar  Meh  Lady  is  nuther ;  I  jes'  teck  de  message 
an*  call  Hannah  so  as  she  kin  git  it  straight ;  an' 
when  Meh  Lady  come  home  dat  evenin'  I  tell  her. 
She  sut'n'y  did  tu'n  white,  an'  dat  night  she  ain' 
sleep  a  wink.  After  she  put  her  ma  to  sleep,  she 
come  out  to  her  mammy'  house,  an'  fling  herself 
on  Hannah'  bed  an'  cry  an'  cry.  'Twuz  jes'  as  ef 
her  heart  gwine  breck ;  she  say  'twould  kill  her 
ma,  an'  hit  did. 

"  Mistis  she  boun'  to  heah  'bout  it,  'cause  Meh 
Lady  'bleeged  to  breck  it  to  her  now ;  and  at  fust 
it  'peared  like  she  got  better  on  it,  she  teck  mo' 
noticement  o'  ev'ything,  an'  her  eyes  look  bright 
and  shiny.  She  ain'  know  not  yit  'bout  how  hard 
Meh  Lady  been  had  to  scuffle  ;  she  say  she  keep 
on  after  her  to  git  herse'f  some  new  clo'es,  a  dress 
an'  things,  an'  she  oont ;  an'  Meh  Lady  would 
jes'  smile,  tired  like,  an'  say  she  teachin'  now,  and 


MEH  LADY  123 

don'  want  no  mo'  'n  she  got,  an'  her  smile  meek 
me  mos'  sorry  like  she  cryin'. 

"  So  hit  went  on  tell  jes  befo'  de  sale.  An'  one 
day  Meh  Lady  she  done  lef  her  ma  settin'  in  her 
cheer  by  de  winder,  whar  she  done  fix  her  good 
wid  pillows,  an'  she  done  gone  to  school,  an'  Han 
nah  come  out  whar  I  grazin'  de  mule  on  de  ditch- 
bank^  an'  say  Mistis  wan'  see  me  toreckly.  I  gi* 
Hannah  de  lines,  an'  I  went  in  an'  knock  at  de 
do',  an'  when  Mistis  ain'  heah,  I  went  an'  knock 
at  de  chahmber  do'  an'  she  tell  me  to  come  in ; 
an'  I  ax  her  how  she  is,  an'  she  say  she  ain'  got 
long  to  stay  wid  us,  an'  she  wan'  ax  me  some'n, 
and  she  wan'  me  tell  her  de  truth,  an'  she  say  I 
al'ays  been  mighty  faithful  an'  kind  to  her  an* 
hern,  an'  she  hope  Gord  will  erward  me  an'  Han 
nah  for  it,  an'  she  wan'  me  now  to  tell  her  de 
truth.  When  she  talk  dat  way,  hit  sut'n'y  hut  me, 
an'  I  tole  her  I  sut'n'y  would  tell  her  faithful. 
Den  she  went  on  an'  ax  me  how  we  wuz  gettin' 
on'  an'  ef  we  ain'  been  mighty  po',  an'  ef  Meh  Lady 
ain'  done  stint  herse'f  more'n  she  ever  know;  an' 
I  tell  her  all  'bout  it,  ev'ything  jes'  like  it  wuz  — 
de  fatal  truth,  'cause  I  done  promised  her;  an' 
she  sut'n'y  was  grieved,  I  tell  you,  an'  the  tears 
roll  down  an'  drap  off  her  face  on  de  pillow ;  an' 
pres'n'y  she  say  she  hope  Gord  would  forgive  her, 
an'  she  teck  out  her  breast  dem  little  rocks  Marster 
gi'  her  when  she  married,  whar  hed  been  ole 
Mistis',  an'  she  say  she  gin  up  all  the  urrs,  but 
dese  she  keep  to  gi'  Meh  Lady  when  she  married, 


i24  IN   OLE   VIRGINIA 

an'  now  she  feared  'twuz  pride,  an'  Gord  done 
punish  her,  lettin'  her  chile  starve,  but  she  am' 
know  hit  'zactly,  an'  ign'ance  he  forgive ;  an'  she 
went  on  an'  talk  'bout  Marster  an'  ole  times  when 
she  fust  come  home  a  bride,  an'  'bout  Marse  Phil 
an'  Meh  Lady,  tell  she  leetle  mo'  breck  my  heart, 
an'  de  tears  rain  down  my  face  on  de  flo'.  She 
sut'n'y  talk  beautiful.  Den  she  gi'  me  de  diamonds, 
an'  dee  shine  like  a  handful  of  lightning-bugs  !  an' 
she  tell  me  to  teck  'em  an'  teck  keer  on  'em,  an' 
gi'  'em  to  Meh  Lady  some  time  after  she  gone, 
an'  not  le'  nobody  else  have  'em ;  an'  would  n' 
me  an'  Hannah  teck  good  keer  o'  her,  an'  stay 
wid  her,  and  not  le'  her  wuck  so  hard,  an'  I  tell 
her  we  sut'n'y  -would  do  dat.  Den  her  voice  mos' 
gin  out  an'  she  'peared  mighty  tired,  but  hit  look 
like  she  got  some'n  still  on  her  min',  an'  pres'n'y 
she  say  I  mus'  come  close,  she  mighty  tired ;  an* 
I  sort  o'  ben'  todes  her,  an'  she  say  she  wan'  me 
after  she  gone,  as  soon  as  I  kin,  to  get  the  wud  to 
Meh  Lady's  cousin  whar  wuz  heah  wounded  in- 
durin'  o'  de  war  dat  she  dead,  an'  dat  ef  he  kin 
help  her  chile,  an'  be  her  pertector,  she  know  he'll 
do  it;  an'  I  ain'  to  le'  Meh  Lady  know  nuttin'  'bout 
it,  not  nuttin'  't  all,  an'  to  tell  him  he  been  mighty 
good  to  her,  an'  she  lef '  him  her  blessin'.  Den 
she  git  so  faint,  I  run  an'  call  Hannah,  an'  she 
come  runnin'  an'  gi'  her  some  sperrits,  an'  tell  me 
to  teck  de  mule  an'  go  after  Meh  Lady  toreckly, 
an'  so  I  did.  When  she  got  dyah,  do',  Mistis 
done  mos'  speechless ;  Hannah  hed  done  git  her 


MEH  LADY  125 

in  de  bed,  which  wan't  no  trouble,  she  so  light. 
She  know  Meh  Lady,  do',  an'  try  to  speak  to  her 
two  or  th'ee  times,  but  dee  ain'  meek  out  much 
mo'  'n  Gord  would  bless  her  and  teck  keer  on  her ; 
an'  she  die  right  easy  jes'  befo'  mornin'.  An'  Meh 
Lady  ax  me  to  pray,  an'  I  did.  She  sut'n'y  die 
peaceful,  an'  she  look  jes'  like  she  smilin'  after  she 
dead ;  she  sut'n'y  wuz  ready  to  go. 

"  Well,  Hannah  and  Meh  Lady  lay  her  out  in 
her  bes'  frock,  an'  she  sho'ly  look  younger'n  I 
ever  see  her  look  sence  Richmon'  fell,  ef  she  ain' 
look  younger'n  she  look  sence  befo'  de  war ;  an' 
de  neighbors,  de  few  dat's  left,  an'  de  black  folks 
roun'  come,  an'  we  bury  her  de  evenin'  after  in  the 
gyardin'  right  side  Marse  Phil,  her  fust-born, 
whar  we  know  she  wan'  be ;  an'  her  mammy  she 
went  in  de  house  after  dat  to  stay  at  night  in  the 
room  wid  Meh  Lady,  an'  I  sleep  on  the  front  po'ch 
to  teck  keer  de  house.  'Cause  we  sut'n'y  wuz 
'sturbed  'bout  de  chile ;  she  ain'  sleep  an'  she 
ain'  eat  an'  she  ain'  cry  none,  an'  Hannah  say  dat 
ain'  reasonable, which  'taint,  'cause  womens  dee  cry 
sort  o'  'natchel. 

"  But  so  'twuz ;  de  larst  time  she  cry  wuz  dat 
evenin'  she  come  in  Hannah's  house,  an'  fling  her- 
se'f  on  de  bed,  an'  cry  so  grievous  'cause  dee 
gwine  sell  de  place,  an'  'twould  kill  her  ma.  She 
ain'  cry  no  mo' ! 

"  Well,  after  we  done  bury  Mistis,  as  I  wuz 
sayin',  we  sut'n'y  wuz  natchelly  tossified  'bout 
Meh  Lady.  Hit  look  like  what  de  doctor  say 


126  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

wuz  sut'n'y  so,  an'  she  gwine  right  after  her 
ma. 

"  I  try  to  meek  her  ride  de  mule  to  school,  an' 
tell  her  I  ain'  got  no  use  for  him,  I  got  to  thin  de 
corn ;  but  she  oodn't ;  she  say  he  so  po'  she  don' 
like  to  gi'  him  no  mo'  wuck'n  necessary ;  an'  dat's 
de  fact,  he  wuz  mighty  po'  'bout  den,  'cause  de 
feed  done  gi'  out  an'  de  grass  ain'  come  good  yit, 
an'  when  mule  bline  an'  ole  he  mighty  hard  to  git 
up  ;  but  he  been  a  good  mule  in  he  time,  an'  he  a 
good  mule  yit. 

"  So  she'd  go  to  school  of  a  mornin',  an'  me  or 
Hannah  one'd  go  to  meet  her  of  a  evenin'  to  tote 
her  books,  'cause  she  hardly  able  to  tote  herse'f 
den ;  an'  she  do  right  well  at  school  (de  chil'un 
ail  love  her) ;  twuz  when  she  got  home  she  so 
sufferin' ;  den  her  mind  sort  o'  wrastlin  wid  itself, 
an'  she  jes'  set  down  an'  think 'an'  study  an'  look 
so  grieved.  Hit  sut'n'y  did  hut  me  an'  Hannah 
to  see  her  settin'  dyah  at  de  winder  o'  Mistis' 
chahmber,  leanin'  her  head  on  her  han'  an'  jes' 
lookin'  out  all  de  evenin'  so  lonesome,  and  she 
look  beautiful  too.  Hannah  say  she  grievin'  her 
self  to  death. 

"  Well,  dat  went  on  for  mo'  'n  six  weeks,  and 
de  chile  jes'  settin'  dyah  ev'y  night  all  by  herse'f 
wid  de  moonlight  shinin'  all  over  her,  meckin'  her 
look  so  pale.  Hannah  she  tell  me  one  night  I  got 
to  do  some'n,  an'  I  say,  '  What  'tis  ?  '  An'  she 
say  I  got  to  git  de  wud  dat  Mistis  say  to  de  Cap'n, 
dat  de  chile  need  a  pertector,  an'  I  say,  '  How  ? ' 


MEH  LADY  127 

And  she  say  I  got  to  write  a  letter.  Den  I  say, 
'  I  cyarn'  neither  read  nor  write,  but  I  can  get 
Meh  Lady  to  write  it ; '  an'  she  say,  nor  I  cyarn', 
'cause  ain'  Mistis  done  spressify  partic'lar  Meh 
Lady  ain'  to  know  nuttin'  'bout  it  ?  Den  I  say, 
'  I  kin  git  somebody  at  de  post-office  to  write  it, 
an'  I  kin  pay  'em  in  eggs ;  '  an'  she  say  she  ain' 
gwine  have  no  po'  white  folks  writin'  an'  spearin' 
'bout  Mistis'  business.  Den  I  say, '  How  I  gwine 
do  den  ?  '  An'  she  study  a  little  while,  an'  den  she 
say  I  got  to  teck  de  mule  an'  go  fine  him.  I  say, 
'Hi!  Good  Gord !  Hannah,  how  I  gwine  fine 
him?  De  Cap'n  live  'way  up  yander  in  New 
York,  or  somewhar  or  nuther,  an'  dat's  furrer'n 
Lynchbu'g,  an'  I'll  ride  de  mule  to  death  befo'  I 
git  dyah;  besides  I  ain'  got  nuttin'  to  feed  him.' 
"  But  Hannah  got  argiment  to  all  dem  wuds ; 
she  say  I  got  tongue  in  meh  head,  an'  I  kin  fine  de 
way;  an'  as  to  ridin'  de  mule  to  death,  I  kin  git 
down  an'  le'  him  res',  or  I  kin  lead  him,  an'  I  kin 
graze  him  side  de  road  ef  folks  so  stingy  nobody 
oon  le'  me  graze  him  in  dee  pahsture.  Den  she 
study  little  while,  an'  den  say  she  got  it  now —  I 
must  go  to  Richmon'  an'  sell  de  mule,  an'  teck  de 
money  an'  git  on  de  cyars  an'  fine  him.  Hannah, 
I  know,  she  gwine  wuck  it,  'cause  she  al'ays  a 
powerful  han'  to  'ravel  anything.  But  it  sut'n'y 
did  hu't  me  to  part  wid  dat  mule,  he  sich  a  am 
bitious  mule,  an'  I  tell  Hannah  I  ain'  done  sidin' 
meh  corn ;  an'  she  say  dat  ain'  meek  no  diff'unce ; 
she  gwine  hoe  de  corn  after  I  gone,  an  de  chile 


xz8  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

grievin'  so  she  feared  she'll  die,  an'  what  good 
sidin'  corn  gwine  do  den  ?  she  grievin'  mo'n  she 
'quainted  wid,  Hannah  say.  So  I  wuz  to  go  to 
Richmon'  nex'  mornin'  but  one,  befo'  light,  an' 
Hannah  she  wash  meh  shu't  nex'  day,  an'  cook 
meh  rations  while  Meh  Lady  at  school.  Well,  I 
knock  offwuck  right  early  nex'  evenin'  'bout  two 
hours  be —  sun,  'cause  I  wan'  rest  de  mule,  an' 
after  grazin'  him  for  a  while  in  de  yard,  I  put  him 
in  he  stall,  an'  gi'  him  a  half-peck  o'  meal,  'cause 
dat  de  lahst  night  I  gwine  feed  him ;  and  soon  as 
I  went  in  wid  de  meal  he  swi'ch  his  tail  an'  hump 
hese'f  jes'  like  he  gwine  kick  me ;  dat's  de  way  he 
al'ays  do  when  he  got  anything  'g'inst  you,  'cause 
you  sich  a  fool  or  anything,  'cause  mule  got  a  heap 
o'  sense  when  you  know  'em.  Well,  I  think  he 
jes'  aggrivated  'cause  I  gwine  sell  him,  an'  I  holler 
at  him  right  ambitious  like  I  gwine  cut  him  in 
two,  to  fool  him  ef  I  kin,  an'  meek  him  b'lieve 
'tain'  nottin'  de  matter. 

An'  jes'  den  I  heah  a  horse  steppin'  'long  right 
brisk,  an'  I  stop  an'  listen,  an'  de  horse  come  'long 
de  pahf  right  study  an'  up  todes  de  stable.  I  say, 
'  Hi !  who  dat  ?  '  an'  when  I  went  to  de  stall  do', 
dyah  wuz  a  gent'man  settin'  on  a  strange  horse 
wid  two  white  foots,  an'  a  beard  on  he  face,  an'  he 
hat  pulled  over  he  eyes  to  keep  de  sun  out'n  'em ; 
an'  when  he  see  me,  he  ride  on  up  to  de  stable,  an* 
ax  me  is  Meh  Lady  at  de  house,  an'  how  she  is, 
an'  a  whole  parecel  o'  questions ;  an'  he  so  p'inted 
in  he  quiration  I  ain'  had  time  to  study  ef  I  ever 


MEH  LADY  129 

see  him  befo',  but  I  don'  think  I  is.  He  a  mighty 
straight,  fine-lookin*  gent'man  do',  wid  he  face 
right  brown  like  he  been  wuckin',  an'  I  ain'  able 
to  fix  him  no  ways.  Den  he  tell  me  he  heah  o* 
Mtstis'  death,  an'  he  jes'  come  'cross  de  ocean,  an' 
he  wan'  see  Meh  Lady  partic'lar ;  an'  I  tell  him 
she  at  school,  but  it  mos'  time  for  her  come  back ; 
an'  he  ax  whichaways,  an'  I  show  him  de  pahf,  an' 
he  git  down  an'  ax  me  ef  I  cyarn  feed  he  horse, 
an'  I  tell  him  of  co'se,  do'  Gord  knows  I  ain'  got 
nuttin'  to  feed  him  wid  'sep'  grahss ;  but  I  ain' 
gwine  le'  him  know  dat,  so  I  ax  him  to  walk  to 
de  house  an'  teck  a  seat  on  de  po'ch  tell  Meh 
Lady  come,  an'  I  teck  de  horse  an'  cyar  him  in  de 
stable  like  I  got  de  corn-house  full  o'  corn.  An' 
when  I  come  out  I  look,  an'  dyah  he  gwine  stridin' 
'way  cross  de  fieP  'long  de  pahf  whar  Meh  Lady 
comin'. 

"  Well,  I  say,  *  Hi !  now  he  gwine  to  meet  Meh 
Lady,  an'  I  ain'  know  he  name  nur  what  he  want,' 
an'  I  study  a  little  while  wherr  I  should  go  an'  fine 
Hannah  or  hurry  myse'f  an'  meet  Meh  Lady.  Not 
dat  I  b'lieve  he  gwine  speak  out  de  way  to  Meh 
Lady,  'cause  he  sut'n'y  wuz  quality,  I  see  dat ;  I 
know  hit  time  I  look  at  him  settin'  dyah  so 
straight  on  he  horse,  'mindin'  me  of  Marse  Phil, 
an'  he  voice  hit  sholy  wuz  easy  when  he  name 
Meh  Lady'  name  and  Mistis';  but  I  ain'  know 
but  what  he  somebody  wan'  to  buy  de  place,  an' 
I  know  Meh  Lady  ain'  wan'  talk  'bout  dat,  an'  ain' 
wan'  see  strangers  no  way  j  so  I  jes'  lip  out  'cross 


130  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

de  fiel'  th'oo  a  nigher  way  to  hit  de  pahf  at  dis 
ve'y  place  whar  de  gap  wuz,  an'  whar  I  thought 
Meh  Lady  mighty  apt  to  res'  ef  she  tired  or 
grievin'. 

"  An'  I  hurry  'long  right  swift  to  git  heah  befo' 
de  white  gent'man  kin  git  heah,  an'  all  de  time  I 
tu'nnin'  in  meh  mine  whar  I  heah  anybody  got 
voice  sound  deep  an'  cler  like  dat,  an'  ax  questions 
ef  Meh  Lady  well,  dat  anxious,  an'  I  cyarn'  git  it. 
An'  by  dat  time  I  wuz  done  got  right  to  de  tu'n 
in  de  pahf  dyah,  mos  out  o'  breaf,  an'  jes'  as  I 
tu'nned  round  dat  clump  o'  bushes  I  see  Meh 
Lady  settin'  right  dyah  on  de  'bankment  whar  de 
gap  use'  to  be,  wid  her  books  by  her  side  on  de 
groun',  her  hat  off  at  her  feet,  an'  her  head  leanin' 
for'ard  in  her  han's,  an'  her  hyah  mos'  tumble 
down,  an'  de  sun  jes'  techin'  it  th'oo  de  bushes ; 
an'  hit  all  come  to  me  in  a  minute,  jes'  as  cler  as 
ef  she  jes'  settin'  on  de  gap  dyah  yistidy  wid  de 
rose-leaves  done  shatter  all  on  de  groun'  by  her, 
an'  Cap'n  Wilton  kissin'  her  han'  to  comfort  her, 
an'  axin'  her  oon'  she  le'  him  come  back  some 
time  to  love  her.  An'  I  say,  «  Dyah  !  'fo  Gord  ! 
ef  I  ain'  know  him  soon  as  I  lay  meh  eyes  on  him ! 
De  pertector  done  come  !  '  Den  I  know  huccome 
dat  mule  act  so  'sponsible. 

"  An'  jes'  den  he  come  walkin'  long  down  de 
pahf,  wid  he  hat  on  de  back  o'  he  head  an'  he  eyes 
on  her  right  farst,  an'  he  face  look  so  tender  hit 
look  right  sweet.  She  think  hit  me,  an'  she  ain' 
move  nor  look  up  tell  he  call  her  name ;  den  she 


MEH  LADY  131 

mos'  jump  out  her  seat,  and  look  up  right  swift,  an' 
give  a  sort  o'  cry,  an'  her  face  light  up  like  she  tu'n't 
to  de  sun,  an'  he  retch  out  bofe  he  han's  to  her; 
an'  I  slip  back  so  he  couldn'  see  me,  an'  come 
'long  home  right  quick  to  tell  Hannah. 

"  I  tell  her  I  know  him  soon  as  I  see  him,  but 
she  tell  me  I  lie,  'cause  ef  1  had  I'd  'a'  come  an' 
tell  her  'bout  hit,  an'  not  gone  down  dyah  inter- 
ferin'  wid  white  folks ;  an'  she  say  I  am'  nuver 
gwine  have  no  sense  'bout  not  knowin'  folks,  dat 
he  couldn'  fool  her ;  an'  I  don'  b'lieve  he  could, 
a'tho'  I  ain'  'low  dat  to  Hannah,  'cause  hit  don' 
do  to  'gree  wid  wimens  too  much ;  dee  git  mighty 
sot  up  by  it,  an'  den  dee  ain'  al'ays  want  it,  nuther. 
Well,  she  went  in  de  house,  an'  dus'  ev'ything,  an' 
fix  all  de  furniture  straight,  an'  set  de  table  for 
two,  a  thing  ain'  been  done  not  sence  Mistis 
tooken  sick;  an*  den  I  see  her  gwine  'roun'  Meh 
Lady'  rose-bush  mighty  busy,  an'  when  she  sont 
me  in  de  dinin'-room,  dyah  a  whole  parecel  o' 
flowers  she  done  put  in  a  blue  dish  in  de  middle  o' 
de  table.  An'  she  jes'  as  'sumptions  'bout  dat 
thing  as  ef  'twuz  a  fifty-cents  somebody  done  gi' 
her.  Well,  den  she  come  out,  an'  sich  a  cookin' 
as  she  hed ;  ef  she  ain'  got  more  skillets  an'  spi 
ders  on  dat  fire  den  I  been  see  dyah  for  I  don' 
know  how  long.  It  fyah  do  me  good  ! 

"  Well,  pres'n'y  heah  dee  come  walkin'  mighty 
aged-like,  an'  I  think  it  all  right,  an'  dee  went  up 
on  de  po'ch  an'  shake  hands  a  long  time,  an'  den, 
meh  Gord !  you  know  he  tu'n  roun'  an'  come 


i32  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

down  de  steps,  an'  she  gone  in  de  house  wid  her 
handcher  to  her  eyes,  cryin'.  I  call  Hannah  right 
quick  an'  say, '  Hi,  Hannah,  good  Gord  A'mighty ! 
what  de  motter  now  ?  '  an'  Hannah  she  look ;  den 
widout  a  wu'd  she  tu'n  roun'  an'  walk  right  straight 
'long  de  pahf  to  de  house,  an'  went  in  th'oo  de 
dinin'-room  an'  into  de  hall,  an'  dyah  she  fine  de 
chile  done  fling  herself  down  on  her  face  on  de  sofa, 
cryin'  like  her  heart  broke ;  an'  she  ax  her  what 
de  matter,  an'  she  say  nuttin',  an'  Hannali  say, 
'  What  he  been  sayin'  to  you  ? '  an'  she  say, 
*  Nuttin' ; '  an'  Hannah  say,  '  You  done  sen'  him 
'way?'  an'  she  say,  'Yes.'  Den  Hannah  she 
tell  her  what  Mistis  tell  me  de  day  she  die,  an'  she 
say  she  stop  cryin'  sort  o',  but  she  cotch  hold  de 
pillar  right  tight  like  she  in  agony,  an'  she  say 
pres'n'y, '  Please  go  way,'  an'  Hannah  come  'way 
an'  come  outdo's. 

"  An'  de  Cap'n,  when  he  come  down  de  steps, 
he  went  to  Meh  Lady'  rose-bush  an'  pull  a  rose 
off  it,  an'  put  't  in  a  little  book  in  he  pocket ;  an' 
den  he  come  down  todes  we  house,  an'  he  face 
mighty  pale  an'  'strusted  lookin',  an'  he  sut'n'y 
wuz  glad  to  see  me,  an'  he  laugh'  a  little  bit  at  me 
for  lettin'  him  fool  me  ;  but  I  tell  him  he  done  got 
so  likely  an'  agreeable  lookin',  dat  de  reason  I 
ain'  know  him.  An'  he  ax  me  to  git  he  horse,  an' 
jes'  den  Hannah  come  out  de  house,  an'  she  ax 
him  whar  he  gwine;  an'  he  'spon'  he  gwine 
home,  an'  he  don'  reckon  he'll  ever  see  us  no 
mo' ;  an'  he  say  he  thought  when  he  come  maybe 


MEH  LADY  133 

'twould  be  diffunt,  an'  he  had  hoped  maybe  he'd 
'a'  been  able  to  prove  to  Meh  Lady  some'n  he  wan' 
prove,  an'  get  her  to  le'  him  teck  keer  o'  her  an1 
we  all ;  dat's  what  he  come  ten  thousand  miles 
fur,  he  say ;  but  she  got  some'n  in  her  mine,  he 
say,  she  cyarn'  git  over,  an'  now  he  got  to  go  'way, 
an'  he  say  he  want  us  to  teck  keer  on  her,  an'  stay 
wid  her  al'ays,  and  he  gwine  meek  it  right,  an'  he 
gwine  lef  he  name  in  Richmon'  wid  a  gent'man, 
an'  gi'  me  he  'dress,  an'  I  mus'  come  up  dyah  ev'y 
month  an'  git  what  he  gwine  lef  dyah,  an'  report 
how  we  all  is ;  an'  he  say  he  ain'  got  nuttin'  to  do 
now  but  to  try  an'  reward  us  all  fur  all  our  kind 
ness  to  him,  an'  keep  us  easy,  but  he  wa'n'  nuver 
comin'  back,  he  guess,  'cause  he  got  no  mo'  hope 
now  he  know  Meh  Lady  got  dat  on  her  mine  he 
cyarn'  git  over.  An'  he  look  down  in  de  gyardin 
todes  the  graveyard  when  he  say  dat,  an'  he  voice 
sort  o'  broke.  Hannah  she  heah  him  th'oo  right 
study,  an'  he  face  look  mighty  sorrowful,  an'  he 
voice  done  mos'  gin  out  when  he  say  Meh  Lady 
got  that  on  her  mine  he  cyarn'  git  over. 

"  Den  Hannah  she  upped  an'  tole  him  he  sut'n'y 
ain'  got  much  sense  ef  he  come  all  dat  way  he  say, 
an'  gwine  'way  widout  Meh  Lady ;  dat  de  chile 
been  dat  pesterin'  herse'f  sence  her  ma  die  she  ain' 
know  what  she  wan'  mos',  an'  got  in  her  mine ; 
an'  ef  he  ain'  got  de  dictation  to  meek  her  know, 
he  better  go  'long  back  whar  he  came  fum,  an'  he 
better  ain'  never  set  he  foot  heah  ;  an'  she  say  he 
sut'n'y  done  gone  back  sence  he  driv  dem  Yankees 


i34  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

out  de  do'  wid  he  s'o'de,  an'  settin'  dyah  on  he 
horse  at  de  gate  so  study,  an'  she  say  ef  'twuz  dat 
man  he'd  be  married  dis  evenin'.  Oh  !  she  was 
real  savigrous  to  him,  'cause  she  sut'n'y  wuz  out 
done  ;  an'  she  tell  him  what  Mistis  tell  me  de  day 
she  'ceasted,  ev'y  wud  jes  like  I  tell  you  settin' 
heah,  an'  she  say  now  he  can  go  'long,  'cause  ef 
he  ain'  gwine  be  pertector  to  de  chile  de  plenty 
mo'  sufferin'  to  be,  dat  dee  pesterin'  her  all  de 
time,  an'  she  jes'  oon'  have  nuttin'  't  all  to  do  wid 
'em,  dat's  all.  Wid  dat  she  tu'n  'roun'  an'  gone 
in  her  house  like  she  ain'  noticin'  him,  an'  he,  suh ! 
he  look  like  day  done  broke  on  'im.  I  see  dark 
ness  roll  off  him,  an'  he  tu'n  roun'  an'  stride  'long 
back  to  de  house,  an'  went  up  de  steps  th'ee  at  a 
time. 

"  An'  dee  say  when  he  went  in,  de  chile  was 
dyah  on  de  sofa  still  wid  her  head  in  de  pillow 
cryin',  'cause  she  sut'n'y  did  care  for  him  all  de 
time,  an'  ever  sence  he  open  he  eyes  an'  look  at 
her  so  cu'yus,  settin'  dyah  by  him  fannin'  him  all 
night  to  keep  him  fum  dyin',  when  he  layin'  dyah 
wounded  in  de  war.  An'  de  on'y  thing  is  she  ain' 
been  able  to  get  her  premission  to  marry  him 
'cause  he  wuz  fightin'  'g'inst  we  all,  an'  'cause  she 
got  't  in  her  mine  dat  Mistis  don'  wan'  her  to 
marry  him  for  dat  account.  An'  now  he  gone  she 
layin'  dyah  in  de  gre't  hall  cryin'  on  de  sofa  to 
herse'f,  so  she  ain'  heah  him  come  up  de  steps, 
tell  he  went  up  to  her,  and  kneel  down  by  her, 
an'  put  he  arm  'roun'  her  and  talk  to  her  lovin'. 


MEH  LADY  135 

"  Hannah  she  went  in  th'oo  de  chahmber  pres'n'y 
to  peep  an'  see  ef  he  got  any  sense  yit,  an'  when 
she  come  back  she  ain'  say  much,  but  she  sont  me 
to  de  spring,  an'  set  to  cookin'  ag'in  mighty  indus- 
chus,  an'  she  say  he  tryin'  to  'swade  de  chile  to 
marry  him  to-morrow.  She  oon'  tell  me  nuttin' 
mo'  'cep'  dat  de  chile  seem  mighty  peaceable,  an* 
she  don'  know  wherr  she  marry  him  toreckly  cr 
not,  'cause  she  heah  her  say  she  ain'  gwine  marry 
him  at  all,  an'  she  cyarn'  marry  him  to-morrow 
'cause  she  got  her  school,  an'  she  ain'  got  no 
dress ;  but  she  place  heap  o'  'pendence  in  him, 
Hannah  say,  an'  he  gone  on  talkin'  mighty  sensi 
ble,  like  he  gwine  marry  her  wherr  or  no,  an'  he 
dat  protectin'  he  done  got  her  head  on  he  shoulder 
an'  talk  to  her  jes'  as  'fectionate  as  ef  she  b'longst 
to  him,  an' —  she  ain'  say  he  kiss  her,  but  I  done 
notice  partic'lar  she  ain'  say  he  ain' ;  an'  she  say 
de  chile  sut'n'y  is  might'  satisfied,  an'  dat  all  she 
gwine  recite,  an'  I  better  go  'long  an'  feed  white 
folk's  horse  'stido'  interferin'  'long  dee  business ; 
an'  so  I  did,  an'  I  gi'  him  de  larst  half-peck  o' 
meal  Hannah  got  in  de  barrel. 

"  An'  when  I  come  back  to  de  house,  Hannah 
done  cyar  in  de  supper  an'  waitin'  on  de  table,  an' 
dee  settin*  opposite  one  nurr  talkin',  an'  she  po'in 
out  he  tea,  an'  he  tellin'  her  things  to  make  her 
laugh  an'  look  pretty,  'cross  Hannah'  flowers  in 
de  blue  bowl  twix'  'em.  Hit  meek  me  feel  right 
young. 

"  Well,  after  supper  dee  come  out  an'  went  to 


i36  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

walk  'bout  de  yard,  an'  pres'n'y  dee  stop  at  dat  red 
rose-bush,  and  I  see  him  teck  out  he  pocket-book 
an'  teck  some'n  out  it,  and  she  say  some'n,  an'  he 
put  he  arm  —  ne'm'  mine,  ef  Hannah  ain'  say  he 
kiss  her,  I  know — 'cause  de  moon  come  out  a  lit 
tle  piece  right  den  an'  res'  on  'em,  an'  she  sut'n'y 
look  beautiful  wid  her  face  sort  o'  tu'nned  up  to 
him,  smilin'. 

"  You  mine,  do',  she  keep  on  tellin'  him  she  ain' 
promise  to  marry  him,  an'  of  co'se  she  cyarn'  marry 
him  to-morrow  like  he  say ;  she  ain'  nuver  move 
fum  dat.  But  dat  ain'  'sturb  he  mine  now;  he 
keep  on  laughin'  study.  Tell,  'bout  right  smart 
while  after  supper,  he  come  out  an'  ax  me  cyarn ' 
I  git  he  horse.  I  say, «  Hi !  what  de  matter  ?  Whar 
you  gwine  ?  I  done  feed  yo'  horse.' 

"  He  laugh  real  hearty,  an'  say  he  gwine  to  de 
Co'te  House,  an*  he  wan'  me  to  go  wid  him ;  don' 
I  think  de  mule  kin  stan'  it  ?  an*  her  mammy  will 
teck  keer  Meh  Lady. 

"  So  in  'bout  a  hour  we  wuz  on  de  road,  an'  de 
last  thing  Meh  Lady  say  wuz  she  cyarn'  marry 
him ;  but  he  come  out  de  house  laughin',  an'  he 
sut'n'y  wuz  happy,  an'  he  ax  me  all  sort  o'  ques 
tions  'bout  Meh  Lady,  an'  Marse  Phil,  an'  de  ole 
times. 

"  We  went  by  de  preacher's  an'  wake  him  up 
befo'  day,  an'  he  say  he'll  drive  up  dyah  after 
breakfast;  an'  den  we  went  on  'cross  to  de  Co'te 
House,  an'  altogether  'twuz  about  twenty-five 
miles,  an'  hit  sut'n'y  did  push  ole  George  good, 


MEH  LADY  137 

'cause  de  Cun'l  wuz  a  hard  rider  like  all  we  all 
white  folks;  he  come  mighty  nigh  givin'  out,  I 
tell  you. 

"  We  got  dyah  befo'  breakfast,  an'  wash  up,  an' 
pres'n'y  de  cluck,  Mr.  Taylor,  come,  an'  de  Cun'l 
went  over  to  de  office.  In  a  minute  he  call  me, 
an'  I  went  over,  an'  soon  as  I  git  in  de  do'  I  see 
he  mighty  pestered.  He  say,  '  Heah,  Billy,  you 
know  you'  young  mistis'  age,  don't  you  ?  I  want 
you  to  prove  it.' 

" '  Hi !  yes,  suh,  co'se  I  knows  it,'  I  says.  '  Mis 
tis  got  her  an'  Marse  Phil  bofe  set  down  in  de  book 
at  home.' 

" '  Well,  jes'  meek  oath  to  it,'  says  he,  easy  like, 
'  She's  near  twenty-three,  ain't  she  ?  ' 

"  '  Well,  'fo'  Gord  !  Marster,  I  don'  know  'bout 
dat,'  says  I.  '  You  know  mo'  'bout  dat  'n  I  does, 
'cause  you  can  read.  I  know  her  age,  'cause  I  right 
dyah  when  she  born ;  but  how  ole  she  is,  I  don' 
know,'  I  says. 

" '  Cyarn'  you  swear  she's  twenty-one  ? '  says  he, 
right  impatient. 

"  *  Well,  nor,  suh,  dat  I  cyarn','  says  I. 

"  Well,  he  sut'n'y  looked  aggrivated,  but  he  ain' 
say  nuttin',  he  jes'  tu'n  to  Mr.  Taylor  an'  say: 

" '  Kin  I  get  a  fresh  horse  heah,  suh  ?  I  kin 
ride  home  an'  get  de  proof  an'  be  back  heah  in 
five  hours,  ef  I  can  get  a  fresh  horse ;  I'll  buy 
him  and  pay  well  for  him,  too.' 

"'It's  forty  miles  dyah  and  back,"  says  Mr. 
Taylor. 


x38  AV  OLE    VIRGINIA 

"  <  I  kin  do  it ;  I'll  be  back  heah  at  half-past 
twelve  o'clock  sharp,'  says  de  Cun'l,  puttin'  up 
he  watch  an'  pullin'  on  he  gloves  an'  tu'nnin'  to 
de  do'. 

"  Well,  he  look  so  sure  o'  what  he  kin  do,  I  feel 
like  I  'bleeged  to  help  him,  an'  I  say : 

"  '  I  ain't  know  wherr  Meh  Lady  twenty-th'ee 
or  twenty-one,  'cause  I  ain'  got  no  learnin',  but  I 
know  she  born  on  Sunday  de  thrashin'-wheat  time 
two  years  after  Marse  Phil  wuz  born,  whar  I  cyar' 
in  dese  ahms  on  de  horse  when  he  wuz  a  baby,  an' 
whar  went  in  de  ahmy,  an'  got  kilt  leadin'  he  bat'ry 
in  de  battle  'cross  de  oat-fiel'  down  todes  Williams- 
bu'g,  an'  de  gener'l  say  he  ruther  been  him  den 
President  de  Confederate  States,  an'  he's  'sleep 
by  he  ma  in  de  ole  gyardin  at  home  now ;  I  bury 
him  dyah,  an'  hit's  "Cun'l"  on  he  tombstone 
dyah  now.' 

"  De  Cun'l  tu'n  roun'  an'  look  at  Mr.  Taylor, 
an'  Mr.  Taylor  look  out  de  winder  ('cause  he  know 
'twuz  so,  'cause  he  wuz  in  Marse  Phil'  bat'ry). 

"'You  needn'  teck  you'  ride,'  says  he,  sort 
o'  whisperin'.  An'  de  Cun'l  pick  up  a  pen  an' 
write  a  little  while,  an'  den  he  read  it,  an'  he  had 
done  write  jes'  what  I  say,  wud  for  wud;  an'  Mr. 
Taylor  meek  me  kiss  de  book,  'cause  'twuz  true, 
an'  he  say  he  gwine  spread  it  in  de  '  Reecord ' 
jes'  so,  for  all  de  wull  to  see. 

"  Den  we  come  on  home,  I  ridin'  a  horse  de 
Cun'l  done  hire  to  rest  de  mule,  an'  I  mos'  tired 
as  he,  but  de  Cun'l  he  ridin'  jes'  as  fresh  as  ef  he 


MEH  LADY  139 

jes'  start;  an'  he  bring  me  a  nigh  way  vvhar  he 
learnt  in  de  war,  he  say,  when  he  used  to  slip 
th'oo  de  lines  an'  come  at  night  forty  miles  jes'  to 
look  at  de  house  an'  see  de  light  shine  in  Meh 
Lady'  winder. 

"  De  preacher  an'  he  wife  wuz  dyah  when  we 
git  home ;  but  you  know  Meh  Lady  ain'  satisfied 
in  her  mine  yit.  She  say  she  do  love  him,  but 
she  don'  know  wherr  she  ought  to  marry  him, 
'cause  she  ain'  got  nobody  to  'vise  her.  But  he 
say  he  g\vine  be  her  'viser  from  dis  time,  an'  he 
lead  her  to  de  do'  an'  kiss  her ;  an'  she  went  to  git 
ready,  an'  de  turr  lady  wid  her,  an'  her  mammy 
wait  on  her,  while  I  wait  on  de  Cun'l,  an'  be  he 
body-servant,  an'  git  he  warm  water  to  shave,  an' 
he  cut  off  all  he  beard  'sep'  he  mustache,  'cause 
Meh  Lady  jes'  say  de  man  she  knew  didn'  hed  no 
beard  on  he  face.  An'  Hannah  she  sut'n'y  wuz 
comical,  she  ironin'  an'  sewin'  dyah  so  induschus 
she  oon'  le'  me  come  in  meh  own  house. 

"  Well,  pres'n'y  we  wuz  ready,  an' we  come  out 
in  de  hall,  an'  de  Cun'l  went  in  de  parlor  whar 
dee  wuz  gwine  be  married,  an'  de  preacher  he 
wuz  in  dyah,  an'  dee  chattin'  while  we  waitin'  fur 
Meh  Lady ;  an'  I  jes'  slip  out  an'  got  up  in  de  j'ice 
an'  git  out  dem  little  rocks  whar  Mistis  gin'  me 
an'  blow  de  dust  off  'em  good,  and  good  Gord  ! 
ef  dee  didn'  shine  !  I  put  'em  in  meh  pocket  an' 
put  on  meh  clean  shu't  an'  come  'long  back  to 
de  house.  Hit  right  late  now,  todes  evenin',  an 
de  sun  wuz  shinin'  all  'cross  de  yard  an'  th'oo  de 


i4o  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

house,  an'  de  Cun'l  he  so  impatient  he  cyarn'  set 
still,  he  jes'  champin'  he  bit;  so  he  git  up  an' 
walk  'bout  in  de  hall,  an'  he  sut'n'y  look  handsome 
an'  young,  jes'  like  he  did  dat  day  he  stand  dyah 
\vid  he  cap  in  he  hand,  an'  Meh  Lady  say  she  ain' 
claim  no  kin  wid  him,  an'  he  say  he  cyarn'  intrude 
on  ladies,  an'  back  out  de  front  do',  wid  he  head 
straight  up,  an'  ride  to  git  her  de  letter,  an'  now 
he  walkin'  in  de  hall  waitin'  to  marry  her.  An' 
all  on  a  sudden  Hannah  fling  de  do'  wide  open, 
an'  Meh  Lady  walk  out ! 

"  Gord !  ef  I  didn'  think  'twuz  a  angel. 

"  She  stan'  dyah  jes'  white  as  snow  fum  her 
head  to  way  back  down  on  de  flo'  behine  her,  an' 
her  veil  done  fall  roun'  her  like  white  mist,  an' 
some  roses  in  her  han'.  Ef  it  didn'  look  like  de 
sun  done  come  th'oo  de  chahmber  do'  wid  her,  an' 
blaze  all  over  de  styars,  an'  de  Cun'l  he  look  like 
she  bline  him.  An'  'twuz  Hannah  an'  she,  while  we 
wuz  'way  dat  day,  done  fine  Mistis'  weddin'  dress 
an'  veil  an'  all,  down  to  de  fan  an'  little  slippers 
'bout  big  as  two  little  white  ears  o'  pop-corn ;  an' 
de  dress  had  sort  o'  cobwebs  all  over  it,  whar 
Hannah  say  was  lace,  an'  hit  jes'  fit  Meh  Lady 
like  Gord  put  it  dyah  in  de  trunk  for  her. 

"  Well,  when  de  Cun'l  done  tell  her  how  beau 
tiful  she  is,  an'  done  meek  her  walk  'bout  de 
hall  showin'  her  train,  an'  she  lookin'  over  her 
shoulder  at  it  an'  den  at  de  Cun'l  to  see  ef  he 
proud  o'  her,  he  gin  her  he  arm ;  an'  jes'  den  I 
walk  up  befo'  her  an'  teck  dem  things  out  meh 


MEH  LADY  141 

pocket,  an'  de  Cun'l  clrap  her  arm  an'  stan'  back, 
an'  I  put  'em  'roun'  her  thote  an'  on  her  arms, 
an'  gin  her  de  res',  an'  Hannah  put  'em  on  her 
ears,  an'  dee  shine  like  stars,  but  her  face  shine 
wus'n  dem,  an'  she  leetle  mo'  put  bofe  arms  'roun' 
meh  neck,  wid  her  eyes  jes'  runnin'  over.  An' 
den  de  Cun'l  gi'  her  he  arm,  an'  dee  went  in  de 
parlor,  an'  Hannah  an'  me  behine  'em.  An'  dyah, 
facin'  Mistis'  picture  an'  Marse  Phil's  (tooken 
when  he  wuz  a  little  boy),  lookin'  down  at  'em 
bofe,  dee  wuz  married. 

"  An'  when  de  preacher  git  to  dat  part  whar  ax 
who  give  dis  woman  to  de  man  to  be  he  wife,  he 
sort  o'  wait  an'  he  eye  sort  o'  rove  to  me  discon- 
fused  like  he  ax  me  ef  I  know ;  an'  I  don'  know 
huccome  'twuz,but  I  think  'bout  Marse  Jeems  an' 
Mistis  when  he  ax  me  dat,  an'  Marse  Phil,  whar 
all  dead,  an'  all  de  scufflin'  we  done  been  th'oo,  an' 
how  de  chile  ain'  got  nobody  to  teck  her  part  now 
'sep'  jes'  me  ;  an'  now,  when  he  wait  an'  look  at 
me  dat  way,  an'  ax  me  dat,  I  'bleeged  to  speak 
up  : —  I  jes'  step  for'ard  an'  say  : 

"<Ole  Billy.' 

"  An'  jes'  den  de  sun  crawl  roun'  de  winder 
shelter  an'  res'  on  her  like  it  pourin'  light  all  over 
her. 

"  An'  dat  night  when  de  preacher  was  gone  wid 
he  wife,  an'  Hannah  done  drapt  off  to  sleep,  I  wuz 
seltin'  in  de  do'  wid  meh  pipe,  an'  I  heah  'em  set- 
tin'  dyah  on  de  front  steps,  dee  voices  soun'in'  low 
like  bees,  an'  de  moon  sort  o'  meltin'  over  de  yard, 


142  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

an'  I  sort  o'  got  to  studyin',  an'  hit  'pear  like  de 
plantation  'live  once  mo',  an'  de  ain'  no  mo'  scuf- 
flin',  an'  de  ole  times  done  come  back  ag'in,  an'  I 
heah  me  kerridge -horses  stompin'  in  de  stalls,  an' 
de  place  all  cleared  up  ag'in,  an'  fence  all  roun'  de 
pahsture,  an'  I  smell  de  wet  clover-blossoms  right 
good,  an'  Marse  Phil  an'  Meh  Lady  done  come 
back,  an'  runnin'  all  roun'  me,  climbin'  up  on  meh 
knees,  callin'  me  *  Unc'  Billy,'  an'  pesterin'  me  to 
go  fishin',  while  somehow  Meh  Lady  an'  de  Cun'l, 
settin'  dyah  on  de  steps  wid  dee  voice  hummin' 
low  like  water  runnin'  in  de  dark  — 

******* 
"  An'  dat  Phil,  suh,"  he  broke  off,  rising  from 
the  ground  on  which  we  had  been  seated  for  some 
time,  "  dat  Phil,  suh,  he  mo'  like  Marse  Phil'n  he 
like  he  pa ;  an'  little  Billy  —  he  ain'  so  ole,  but  he 
ain'  fur  behines  him." 

"  Billy,"  I  said;  "  he's  named  after  —  ?" 
"  Go   'way,    Marster,"   he   said    deprecatingly, 
"  who  gwine  name  gent'man  after  a  ole  nigger  ?  " 


OLE  'STRACTED 


OLE  'STRACTED 


J  WE,  little  Ephum!  awe,  little  ^-phum ! 
ef  you  don'  come  'long  heah,  boy,  an' 
rock  dis  chile  I'll  buss  you  haid  open ! " 
screamed  the  high-pitched  voice  of  a 
woman,  breaking  the  stillness  of  the  summer  even 
ing.  She  had  just  come  to  the  door  of  the  little 
cabin,  where  she  was  now  standing,  anxiously 
scanning  the  space  before  her,  while  a  baby's 
plaintive  wail  rose  and  fell  within  with  wearying 
monotony.  The  log  cabin,  set  in  a  gall  in  the 
middle  of  an  old  field  all  grown  up  in  sassafras, 
was  not  a  very  inviting-looking  place ;  a  few  hens 
loitering  about  the  new  hen-house,  a  brood  of 
half-grown  chickens  picking  in  the  grass  and 
watching  the  door,  and  a  runty  pig  tied  to  a 
"  stob,"  were  the  only  signs  of  thrift ;  yet  the  face 
of  the  woman  cleared  up  as  she  gazed  about  her 
and  afar  off,  where  the  gleam  of  green  made  a 
pleasant  spot,  where  the  corn  grew  in  the  river- 


146  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

bottom  ;  for  it  was  her  home,  and  the  best  of  all 
was  she  thought  it  belonged  to  them. 

A  rumble  of  distant  thunder  caught  her  ear,  and 
she  stepped  down  and  took  a  well-worn  garment 
from  the  clothes-line,  stretched  between  two  dog 
wood  forks,  and  having,  after  a  keen  glance  down 
the  path  through  the  bushes,  satisfied  herself  that 
no  one  was  in  sight,  she  returned  to  the  house, 
and  the  baby's  voice  rose  louder  than  before.  The 
mother,  as  she  set  out  her  ironing  table,  raised  a 
dirge -like  hymn,  which  she  chanted,  partly  from 
habit  and  partly  in  self-defence.  She  ironed  care 
fully  the  ragged  shirt  she  had  just  taken  from  the 
line,  and  then,  after  some  search,  finding  a  needle 
and  cotton,  she  drew  a  rickety  chair  to  the  door 
and  proceeded  to  mend  the  garment. 

"  Dis  de  on'ies'  shut  Ole  'Stracted  got,"  she  said, 
as  if  in  apology  to  herself  for  being  so  careful. 

The  cloud  slowly  gathered  over  the  pines  in  the 
direction  of  the  path ;  the  fowls  carefully  tripped 
up  the  notched  pole,  and  after  a  prudent  pause  at 
the  hole,  disappeared  one  by  one  within ;  the 
chickens  picked  in  a  gradually  contracting  circuit, 
and  finally  one  or  two  stole  furtively  to  the  cabin 
door,  and  after  a  brief  reconnoissance  came  in, 
and  fluttered  up  the  ladder  to  the  loft,  where  they 
had  been  born,  and  yet  roosted.  Once  more  the 
baby's  voice  prevailed,  and  once  more  the  woman 
went  to  the  door,  and,  looking  down  the  path, 
screamed,  "  Awe,  little  Ephum !  awe,  little 
Ephum !  " 


OLE   'STRACTED  147 

"  Ma'm,"  came  the  not  very  distant  answer 
from  the  bushes. 

"  Why  'n't  you  come  'long  heah,  boy,  an'  rock 
dis  chile  ?  " 

"  Yes'm,  I  comin',"  came  the  answer.  She 
waited,  watching,  until  there  emerged  from  the 
bushes  a  queer  little  caravan,  headed  by  a  small 
brat,  who  staggered  under  the  weight  of  another 
apparently  nearly  as  large  and  quite  as  black  as 
himself,  while  several  more  of  various  degrees  of 
diminutiveness  straggled  along  behind. 

"  Ain't  you  heah  me  callin'  you,  boy  ?  You 
better  come  when  I  call  you.  I'll  tyah  you  all  to 
pieces !  "  pursued  the  woman,  in  the  angriest  of 
keys,  her  countenance,  however,  appearing  un 
ruffled.  The  head  of  the  caravan  stooped  and  de 
posited  his  burden  carefully  on  the  ground ;  then, 
with  a  comical  look  of  mingled  alarm  and  peni 
tence,  he  slowly  approached  the  door,  keeping  his 
eye  watchfully  on  his  mother,  and,  picking  his  op 
portunity,  slipped  in  past  her,  dodging  skilfully 
just  enough  to  escape  a  blow  which  she  aimed  at 
him,  and  which  would  have  "  slapped  him  flat " 
had  it  struck  him,  but  which,  in  truth,  was  in 
tended  merely  to  warn  and  keep  him  in  whole 
some  fear,  and  was  purposely  aimed  high  enough 
to  miss  him,  allowing  for  the  certain  dodge. 

The  culprit,  having  stifled  the  whimper  with 
which  he  was  prepared,  flung  himself  into  the 
foot  of  the  rough  plank  box-cradle,  and  began  to 
rock  it  violently  and  noisily,  using  one  leg  as  a 


148  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

lever,  and  singing  an  accompaniment,  of  which 
the  only  words  that  rose  above  the  loud  noise  of 
the  rockers  were,  "  By-a-by,  don't  you  cry ;  go  to 
sleep,  little  ba-by;  "  and  sure  enough  the  baby 
stopped  crying  and  went  to  sleep. 

Eph  watched  his  mammy  furtively  as  she  scraped 
away  the  ashes  and  laid  the  thick  pone  of  dough 
on  the  hearth,  and  shovelled  the  hot  ashes  upon 
it.  Supper  would  be  ready  directly,  and  it  was 
time  to  propitiate  her.  He  bethought  himself  of 
a  message. 

"  Mammy,  Ole  'Stracted  say  you  must  bring  he 
shut;  he  say  he  marster  comin'  to-night." 

"  How  he  say  he  is  ?  "  inquired  the  woman, 
with  some  interest. 

"  He  ain'  say — jes  say  he  want  he  shut.  He 
sutny  is  comical  —  he  layin'  down  in  de  baid." 
Then,  having  relieved  his  mind,  Eph  went  to  sleep 
in  the  cradle. 

" '  Layin'  down  in  de  baid  ?  '  "  quoted  the  woman 
to  herself  as  she  moved  about  the  room.  "  I  ain' 
nuver  'hearn  'bout  dat  befo'.  Dat  sutny  is  a  com 
ical  ole  man  anyways.  He  say  he  used  to  live  on 
dis  plantation,  an'  yit  he  al'ays  talkin'  bout  de 
gret  house  an'  de  fine  kerridges  dee  used  to  have, 
an'  'bout  he  marster  comin'  to  buy  him  back.  De 
'ain'  nuver  been  no  gret  house  on  dis  place,  not 
sence  I  know  nuttin  'bout  it,  'sep  de  overseer 
house  whar  dat  man  live.  I  heah  Ephum  say 
Aunt  Dinah  tell  him  de  ole  house  whar  used  to 
be  on  de  hill  whar  dat  gret  oak-tree  is  in  de  pines 


OLE  'STRACTED  149 

bu'nt  down  de  year  he  wuz  born,  an'  he  ole  mars- 
ter  had  to  live  in  de  overseer  house,  an'  hit  break 
he  heart,  an'  dee  teck  all  he  niggers,  an'  dat's  de 
way  he  come  to  blongst  to  we  all ;  but  dat  ole 
man  ain'  know  nuttin  'bout  dat  house,  'cause  hit 
bu'nt  down.  I  wonder  whar  he  did  come  from  ?  " 
she  pursued,  "  an'  what  he  sho'  'nough  name  ? 
He  sholy  couldn'  been  named  'Ole  'Stracted,' jes' 
so  ;  dat  ain'  no  name  'tall.  Yit  ef  he  ain'  'stract- 
ed,  'tain'  nobody  is.  He  ain'  even  know  he  own 
name,"  she  continued,  presently.  "  Say  he  mars- 
ter  '11  know  him  when  he  come  —  ain'  know  de 
folks  is  free  ;  say  he  marster  gwi  buy  him  back 
in  de  summer  an'  kyar  him  home,  an'  'bout  de 
money  he  gwine  gi'  him.  Ef  he  got  any  money, 
I  wonder  he  live  down  dyah  in  dat  evil-sperit 
hole."  And  the  woman  glanced  around  with 
great  complacency  on  the  picture-pasted  walls  of 
her  own  by  no  means  sumptuously  furnished 
house.  "  Money !  "  she  repeated  aloud,  as  she 
began  to  rake  in  the  ashes,  "  he  ain'  got  nuttin. 
I  got  to  kyar  him  piece  o'  dis  bread  now,"  and  she 
went  off  into  a  dream  of  what  they  would  do  when 
the  big  crop  on  their  land  should  be  all  in,  and 
the  last  payment  made  on  the  house;  of  what  she 
would  wear,  and  how  she  would  dress  the  chil 
dren,  and  the  appearance  she  would  make  at 
meeting,  not  reflecting  that  the  sum  they  had  paid 
on  the  property  had  never,  even  with  all  their 
stinting,  amounted  in  any  one  year  to  more  than  a 
few  dollars  over  the  rent  charged  for  the  place, 


ISO  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

and  that  the  eight  hundred  dollars  yet  due  on  it 
was  more  than  they  could  make  at  the  present 
rate  in  a  lifetime. 

"  Ef  Ephum  jes  had  a  mule,  or  even  somebody 
to  help  him,"  she  thought,  "  but  he  ain'  got  nuttin. 
De  chil'n  ain'  big  'nough  to  do  nuttin  but  eat ;  he 
'ain'  got  no  brurrs,  an'  he  deddy  took  'way  an' 
sold  down  Souf  de  same  time  my  ole  marster  whar 
dead  buy  him ;  dat's  what  I  al'ays  heah  'em  say, 
an'  I  know  he's  dead  long  befo'  dis,  'cause  I  heah 
'em  say  dese  Virginia  niggers  earn  stan'  hit  long 
deah,  hit  so  hot,  hit  frizzle  'em  up,  an'  I  reckon  he 
die  befo'  he  ole  marster,  whar  I  heah  say  die  of  a 
broked  heart  torectly  after  dee  teck  he  niggers  an' 
sell  'em  befo'  he  face.  I  heah  Aunt  Dinah  say 
dat,  an'  dat  he  might'ly  sot  on  he  ole  servants, 
spressaly  on  Ephum  deddy,  whar  named  Little 
Ephum,  an'  whar  used  to  wait  on  him.  Dis  mus' 
'a'  been  a  gret  place  dem  days,  'cordin'  to  what 
dee  say."  She  went  on:  "Dee  say  he  sutny 
live  strong,  wuz  jes  rich  as  cream,  an'  weahed  he 
blue  coat  an'  brass  buttons,  an'  lived  in  dat  ole 
house  whar  wuz  up  whar  de  pines  is  now,  an' 
whar  bu'nt  down,  like  he  owned  de  wull.  An' 
now  look  at  it ;  dat  man  own  it  all,  an'  cuttin'  all 
de  woods  off  it.  He  don'  know  nuttin  'bout 
black  folks,  ain'  nuver  been  fotch  up  wid  'em. 
Who  ever  heah  he  name  'fo'  he  come  heah  an' 
buy  de  place,  an'  move  in  de  overseer  house,  an' 
charge  we  all  eight  hundred  dollars  for  dis  land, 
jes  'cause  it  got  little  piece  o'  bottom  on  it,  an' 


OLE  'STRACTED  I5i 

forty-eight  dollars  rent  besides,  wid  he  ole  stingy 
wife  whar  oon'  even  gi'  'way  buttermilk  !  "  An 
expression  of  mingled  disgust  and  contempt  con 
cluded  the  reflection. 

She  took  the  ash-cake  out  of  the  ashes,  slapped 
it  first  on  one  side,  then  on  the  other,  with  her 
hand,  dusted  it  with  her  apron,  and  walked  to  the 
door  and  poured  over  it  a  gourd  of  water  from  the 
piggin.  Then  she  divided  it  in  half;  one  half 
she  set  up  against  the  side  of  the  chimney,  the 
other  she  broke  up  into  smaller  pieces  and  dis 
tributed  among  the  children,  dragging  the  sleep 
ing  Eph,  limp  and  soaked  with  sleep,  from  the 
cradle  to  receive  his  share.  Her  manner  was  not 
rough  —  was  perhaps  even  tender  —  but  she  used 
no  caresses,  as  a  white  woman  would  have  done 
under  the  circumstances.  It  was  only  toward  the 
baby  at  the  breast  that  she  exhibited  any  endear 
ments.  Her  nearest  approach  to  it  with  the  oth 
ers  was  when  she  told  them,  as  she  portioned  out 
the  ash-cake, "  Mammy  'ain't  got  nuttin  else ;  but 
nem  min',  she  gwine  have  plenty  o'  good  meat 
next  year,  when  deddy  done  pay  for  he  land." 

"  Hi !  who  dat  out  dyah  ?  "  she  said,  suddenly. 
"  Run  to  de  do',  son,  an'  see  who  dat  comin'," 
and  the  whole  tribe  rushed  to  inspect  the  new 
comer. 

It  was,  as  she  suspected,  her  husband,  and  as 
soon  as  he  entered  she  saw  that  something  was 
wrong.  He  dropped  into  a  chair,  and  sat  in 
moody  silence  the  picture  of  fatigue,  physical  and 


152  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

mental.  After  waiting  for  some  time,  she  asked, 
indifferently,  "  What  de  matter  ?  " 

"Datman — ." 

"  What  he  done  do  now  ?  "  The  query  was 
sharp  with  suspicion. 

"  He  say  he  am'  gwine  let  me  have  my  land." 

"He's  a  half-strainer,"  said  the  woman,  with 
sudden  anger.  "  How  he  gwine  help  it  ?  Ain' 
you  got  crap  on  it  ?  "  She  felt  that  there  must  be 
a  defence  against  such  an  outrage. 

"  He  say  he  ain'  gwine  wait  no  longer ;  dat  I 
wuz  to  have  tell  Christmas  to  finish  payin'  for  it, 
an'  I  ain'  do  it,  an'  now  he  done  change  he 
min'." 

"  Tell  dis  Christmas  comin',"  said  his  wife,  with 
the  positiveness  of  one  accustomed  to  expound 
contracts. 

"  Yes ;  but  I  tell  you  he  say  he  done  change  he 
min'."  The  man  had  evidently  given  up  all  hope ; 
he  was  dead  beat. 

"  De  crap's  yourn,"  said  she,  affected  by  his 
surrender,  but  prepared  only  to  compromise. 

"  He  say  he  gwine  teck  all  dat  for  de  rent,  and 
dat  he  gwine  drive  Ole  'Stracted  way  too." 

"  He  ain'  nuttin  but  po'  white  trash  !  "  It  ex 
pressed  her  supreme  contempt. 

"  He  say  he'll  gi'  me  jes  one  week  mo'  to  pay 
him  all  he  ax  for  it,"  continued  he,  forced  to  a 
correction  by  her  intense  feeling,  and  the  instinct 
of  a  man  to  defend  the  absent  from  a  woman's 
attack,  and  perhaps  also  in  the  hope  that  she 
might  suggest  some  escape. 


OLE  'STRACTED  153 

"  He  ain'  nuttin  sep  po'  white  trash  !  "  she  re 
peated.  "  How  you  gwine  raise  eight  hundred 
dollars  at  once  ?  Dee  kyarn  nobody  do  dat.  Gord 
mout !  He  ain'  got  good  sense." 

"  You  ain'  see  meh  corn  lately,  is  you  ? "  he 
asked.  "  Hit  jes  as  rank !  You  can  almos'  see 
it  growin'  ef  you  look  at  it  good.  Dat's  strong 
land.  I  know  dat  when  I  buy  it." 

He  knew  it  was  gone  now,  but  he  had  been  in 
the  habit  of  calling  it  his  in  the  past  three  years, 
and  it  did  him  good  to  claim  the  ownership  a  little 
longer. 

"  I  wonder  whar  Marse  Johnny  is  ?  "  said  the 
woman.  He  was  the  son  of  her  former  owner ; 
and  now,  finding  her  proper  support  failing  her, 
she  instinctively  turned  to  him.  "  He  wouldn' 
let  him  turn  we  all  out." 

"  He  ain'  got  nuttin,  an  ef  he  is,  he  kyarn  get  it 
in  a  week,"  said  Ephraim. 

"  Kyarn  you  teck  it  in  de  co't?  " 

"  Dat's  whar  he  say  he  gwine  have  it  ef  I  don' 
git  out,"  said  her  husband,  despairingly. 

Her  last  defence  was  gone. 

"  Ain'  you  hongry  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  What  you  got  ?  " 

"  I  jes  gwine  kill  a  chicken  for  you." 

It  was  her  nearest  approach  to  tenderness,  and 
he  knew  it  was  a  mark  of  special  attention,  for  all 
the  chickens  and  eggs  had  for  the  past  three  years 
gone  to  swell  the  fund  which  was  to  buy  the  home, 
and  it  was  only  on  special  occasions  that  one  was 
spared  for  food. 


i54  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

The  news  that  he  was  to  be  turned  out  of  his 
home  had  fallen  on  him  like  a  blow,  and  had 
stunned  him;  he  could  make  no  resistance,  he 
could  form  no  plans.  He  went  into  a  rough 
estimate  as  he  waited. 

"  Le'  me  see :  I  done  wuck  for  it  three  years 
dis  Christmas  done  gone;  how  much  does  dat 
meek  ?  " 

"  An'  fo'  dollars,  an*  five  dollars,  an'  two  dollars 
an'  a  half  last  Christmas  from  de  chickens,  an'  all 
dem  ducks  I  done  sell  he  wife,  an'  de'  washin' 
I  been  doin'  for  'em' ;  how  much  is  dat  ?  "  sup 
plemented  his  wife. 

"  Dat's  what  I  say  !  " 

His  wife  endeavored  vainly  to  remember  the 
amount  she  had  been  told  it  was  ;  but  the  unac 
counted-for  washing  changed  the  sum  and  de 
stroyed  her  reliance  on  the  result.  And  as  the 
chicken  was  now  approaching  perfection,  and  re 
quired  her  undivided  attention,  she  gave  up  the 
arithmetic  and  applied  herself  to  her  culinary 
duties. 

Ephraim  also  abandoned  the  attempt,  and  waited 
in  a  reverie,  in  which  he  saw  corn  stand  so  high 
and  rank  over  his  land  that  he  could  scarcely  dis 
tinguish  the  balk,  and  a  stable  and  barn  and  a 
mule,  or  maybe  two — it  was  a  possibility  —  and 
two  cows  which  his  wife  would  milk,  and  a  green 
wagon  driven  by  his  boys,  while  he  took  it  easy 
and  gave  orders  like  a  master,  and  a  clover  patch, 
and  wheat,  and  he  saw  the  yellow  grain  waving, 


OLE  'STRACTED  155 

and  heard  his  sons  sing  the  old  harvest  song  of 
"  Cool  Water  "  while  they  swung  their  cradles, 
and  — 

"  You  say  he  gwine  turn  Ole  'Stracted  out, 
too  ?  "  inquired  his  wife,  breaking  the  spell.  The 
chicken  was  done  now,  and  her  mind  reverted  to 
the  all-engrossing  subject. 

"  Yes  ;  say  he  tired  o'  ole  'stracted  nigger  livin' 
on  he  place  an'  payin'  no  rent." 

"  Good  Gord  A' mighty  !  Pay  rent  for  dat  ole 
pile  o'  logs  !  Ain't  he  been  mendin'  he  shoes  an* 
harness  for  rent  all  dese  years  ?  " 

"  'Twill  kill  dat  ole  man  to  tu'n  him  out  dat 
house,"  said  Ephraim  ;  "  he  ain'  nuver  stay  away 
from  dyah  a  hour  sence  he  come  heah." 

"Sutny  'twill,"  assented  his  wife;  then  she 
added,  in  reply  to  the  rest  of  the  remark,  "  Nuver 
min';  den  we'll  see  what  he  got  in  dyah."  To 
a  woman,  that  was  at  least  some  compensation. 
Ephraim's  thoughts  had  taken  a  new  direction. 

"  He  al'ays  feared  he  marster'd  come  for  him 
while  he  'way,"  he  said,  in  mere  continuance  of 
his  last  remark. 

"  He  sen'  me  wud  he  marster  comin'  to-night, 
an'  he  want  he  shut,"  said  his  wife,  as  she  handed 
him  his  supper.  Ephraim's  face  expressed  more 
than  interest ;  it  was  tenderness  which  softened 
the  rugged  lines  as  he  sat  looking  into  the  fire. 
Perhaps  he  thought  of  the  old  man's  loneliness, 
and  of  his  own  father  torn  away  and  sold  so  long 
ago,  before  he  could  even  remember,  and  perhaps 


156  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

very  dimly  of  the  beauty  of  the  sublime  devotion 
of  this  poor  old  creature  to  his  love  and  his  trust, 
holding  steadfast  beyond  memory,  beyond  reason, 
after  the  knowledge  even  of  his  own  identity  and 
of  his  very  name  was  lost. 

The  woman  caught  the  contagion  of  his  sym 
pathy. 

"  De  chil'n  say  he  mighty  comical,  an'  he  layin' 
down  in  de  baid,"  she  said. 

Ephraim  rose  from  his  seat. 

"  VVhar  you  gwine  ?  " 

"  I  must  go  to  see  'bout  him,"  he  said,  simply. 

"  Ain'  you  gwine  finish  eatin'  ?  " 

"  I  gwine  kyar  dis  to  him." 

"  Well,  I  kin  cook  you  anurr  when  we  come 
back,"  said  his  wife,  with  ready  acquiescence. 

In  a  few  minutes  they  were  on  the  way,  going 
single  file  down  the  path  through  the  sassafras, 
along  which  little  Eph  and  his  followers  had  come 
an  hour  before,  the  man  in  the  lead  and  his  wife 
following,  and,  according  to  the  custom  of  their 
race,  carrying  the  bundles,  one  the  surrendered 
supper  and  the  other  the  neatly  folded  and  well- 
patched  shirt  in  which  Ole  'Stracted  hoped  to 
meet  his  long-expected  loved  ones. 

As  they  came  in  sight  of  the  ruinous  little  hut 
which  had  been  the  old  man's  abode  since  his 
sudden  appearance  in  the  neighborhood  a  few 
years  after  the  war,  they  observed  that  the  bench 
beside  the  door  was  deserted,  and  that  the  door 
stood  ajar  —  two  circumstances  which  neither  of 


OLE  'STRACTED  157 

them  remembered  ever  to  have  seen  before ;  for 
in  all  the  years  in  which  he  had  been  their  neigh 
bor  Ole  'Stracted  had  never  admitted  any  one 
within  his  door,  and  had  never  been  known  to 
leave  it  open.  In  mild  weather  he  occupied  a 
bench  outside,  where  he  either  cobbled  shoes  for 
his  neighbors,  accepting  without  question  any 
thing  they  paid  him,  or  else  sat  perfectly  quiet, 
with  the  air  of  a  person  waiting  for  some  one.  He 
held  only  the  briefest  communication  with  any 
body,  and  was  believed  by  some  to  have  intimate 
relations  with  the  Evil  One,  and  his  tumble-down 
hut,  which  he  was  particular  to  keep  closely 
daubed,  was  thought  by  such  as  took  this  view  of 
the  matter  to  be  the  temple  where  he  practised  his 
unholy  rites.  For  this  reason,  and  because  the 
little  cabin,  surrounded  by  dense  pines  and  cov 
ered  with  vines  which  the  popular  belief  held 
"  pizonous,"  was  the  most  desolate  abode  a  hu 
man  being  could  have  selected,  most  of  the  dwell 
ers  in  that  section  gave  the  place  a  wide  berth, 
especially  toward  nightfall,  and  Ole  'Stracted 
would  probably  have  suffered  but  for  the  charity 
of  Ephraim  and  his  wife,  who,  although  often 
wanting  the  necessaries  of  life  themselves,  had 
long  divided  with  their  strange  neighbor.  Yet 
even  they  had  never  been  admitted  inside  his 
door,  and  knew  no  more  of  him  than  the  other 
people  about  the  settlement  knew. 

His  advent  in  the  neighborhood  had  been  mys 
terious.     The  first  that  was  known  of  him  was 


158  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

one  summer  morning,  when  he  was  found  sitting 
on  the  bench  beside  the  door  of  this  cabin,  which 
had  long  been  unoccupied  and  left  to  decay.  He 
was  unable  to  give  any  account  of  himself,  except 
that  he  always  declared  that  he  had  been  sold  by 
some  one  other  than  his  master  from  that  planta 
tion,  that  his  wife  and  boy  had  been  sold  to  some 
other  person  at  the  same  time  for  twelve  hundred 
dollars  (he  was  particular  as  to  the  amount),  and 
that  his  master  was  coming  in  the  summer  to  buy 
him  back  and  take  him  home,  and  would  bring 
him  his  wife  and  child  when  he  came.  Everything 
since  that  day  was  a  blank  to  him,  and  as  he  could 
not  tell  the  name  of  his  master  or  wife,  or  even  his 
own  name,  and  as  no  one  was  left  old  enough  to 
remember  him,  the  neighborhood  having  been  en 
tirely  deserted  after  the  war,  he  simply  passed  as 
a  harmless  old  lunatic  laboring  under  a  delusion. 
He  was  devoted  to  children,  and  Ephraim's  small 
brood  were  his  chief  delight.  They  were  not  at 
all  afraid  of  him,  and  whenever  they  got  a  chance 
they  would  slip  off  and  steal  down  to  his  house, 
where  they  might  be  found  any  time  squatting 
about  his  feet,  listening  to  his  accounts  of  his  ex 
pected  visit  from  his  master,  and  what  he  was  go 
ing  to  do  afterward.  It  was  all  of  a  great  planta 
tion,  and  fine  carriages  and  horses,  and  a  house 
with  his  wife  and  the  boy. 

This  was  all  that  was  known  of  him,  except  that 
once  a  stranger,  passing  through  the  country,  and 
hearing  the  name  Ole  'Stracted,  said  that  he  heard 


OLE  'STRACTED  159 

a  similar  one  once,  long  before  the  war,  in  one  of 
the  Louisiana  parishes,  where  the  man  roamed 
at  will,  having  been  bought  of  the  trader  by  the 
gentleman  who  owned  him,  for  a  small  price,  on 
account  of  his  infirmity. 

"  Is  you  gwine  in  dyah  ?  "  asked  the  woman,  as 
they  approached  the  hut. 

"  Hi !  yes ;  'tain'  nuttin'  gwine  hu't  you ;  an' 
you  say  Ephum  say  he  layin'  in  de  baid  ?  "  he  re 
plied,  his  mind  having  evidently  been  busy  on  the 
subject. 

"  An'  mighty  comical,"  she  corrected  him,  with 
exactness  born  of  apprehension. 

"Well?     I 'feared  he  sick." 

"  I  ain'  nuver  been  in  dyah,"  she  persisted. 
k    "  Ain'  de  chil'n  been  in  dyah  ?  " 

"  Dee  say  'stracted  folks  oon  hu't  chil'n." 

"  Dat  ole  man  oon  hu't  nobody ;  he  jes  tame  as 
a  ole  tomcat." 

"  I  wonder  he  ain'  feared  to  live  in  dat  lonesome 
ole  house  by  hisself.  I  jes  lieve  stay  in  a  grave 
yard  at  once.  I  ain'  wonder  folks  say  he  sees 
sperrits  in  dat  hanty-lookin'  place."  She  came 
up  by  her  husband's  side  at  the  suggestion.  "  I 
wonder  he  don'  go  home  ?  " 

"  Whar  he  got  any  home  to  go  to  sep  heaven  ?  " 
said  Ephraim. 

"  What  was  you  mammy  name,  Ephum  ?  " 

"  Mymy,"  said  he,  simply. 

They  were  at  the  cabin  now,  and  a  brief  pause 
of  doubt  ensued.  It  was  perfectly  dark  inside  the 


i6o  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

door,  and  there  was  not  a  sound.  The  bench 
where  they  had  heretofore  held  their  only  commu 
nication  with  their  strange  neighbor  was  lying  on 
its  side  in  the  weeds  which  grew  up  to  the  very 
walls  of  the  ruinous  cabin,  and  a  lizard  suddenly 
ran  over  it,  and  with  a  little  rustle  disappeared 
under  the  rotting  ground-sill.  To  the  woman  it 
was  an  ill  omen.  She  glanced  furtively  behind 
her,  and  moved  nearer  her  husband's  side.  She 
noticed  that  the  cloud  above  the  pines  was  getting 
a  faint  yellow  tinge  on  its  lower  border,  while  it 
was  very  black  above  them.  It  filled  her  with 
dread,  and  she  was  about  to  call  her  husband's 
notice  to  it,  when  a  voice  within  arrested  their  at 
tention.  It  was  very  low,  and  they  both  listened 
in  awed  silence,  watching  the  door  meanwhile  as 
if  they  expected  to  see  something  supernatural 
spring  from  it. 

"  Nem  min' — jes  wait — 'tain'  so  long  now  — 
he'll  be  heah  torectly,"  said  the  voice.  "  Dat's 
what  he  say  —  gwine  come  an'  buy  me  back — den 
we  gwine  home." 

In  their  endeavor  to  catch  the  words  they  moved 
nearer,  and  made  a  slight  noise.  Suddenly  the 
low,  earnest  tone  changed  to  one  full  of  eager 
ness. 

"  Who  dat?  "  was  called  in  sharp  inquiry. 

"  'Tain'  nobody  but  me  an'  Polly,  Ole  'Stracted," 
said  Ephraim,  pushing  the  door  slightly  wider  open 
and  stepping  in.  They  had  an  indistinct  idea  that 
the  poor  deluded  creature  had  fancied  them  his 


OLE  'STRACTED  161 

longed-for  loved  ones,  yet  it  was  a  relief  to  see  him 
bodily. 

"  Who  you  say  you  is  ?  "  inquired  the  old  man, 
feebly. 

"Mean'  Polly." 

"  I  done  bring  you  shut  home,"  said  the  woman, 
as  if  supplementing  her  husband's  reply.  "  Hit 
all  bran'  clean,  an'  I  done  patch  it." 

"  Oh,  I  thought—"  said  the  voice,  sadly. 

They  knew  what  he  thought.  Their  eyes  were 
now  accustomed  to  the  darkness,  and  they  saw 
that  the  only  article  of  furniture  which  the  room 
contained  was  the  wretched  bed  or  bench  on 
which  the  old  man  was  stretched.  The  light  sift 
ing  through  the  chinks  in  the  roof  enabled  them  to 
see  his  face,  and  that  it  had  changed  much  in  the 
last  twenty-four  hours,  and  an  instinct  told  them 
that  he  was  near  the  end  of  his  long  waiting. 

"  How  is  you,  Ole  'Stracted  ?  "  asked  the  woman. 

"  Dat  ain'  my  name,"  answered  the  old  man, 
promptly.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  dis 
owned  the  name. 

"  Well,  how  is  you,  Ole  —  What  I  gwine  to 
call  you  ?  "  asked  she,  with  feeble  finesse. 

"  I  don'  know — he  kin  tell  you." 

"Who?" 

"  Who  ?  Marster.  He  know  it.  Ole  'Stracted 
ain' know  it;  but  dat  ain' nuttin.  He  know  it  — 
got  it  set  down  in  de  book.  I  jes  waitin'  for  'em 
now." 

A  hush  fell  on  the  little  audience  —  they  were 


162  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

in  full  sympathy  with  him,  and  knowing  no  way 
of  expressing  it,  kept  silence.  Only  the  breath 
ing  of  the  old  man  was  audible  in  the  room.  He 
was  evidently  nearing  the  end.  "  I  mighty  tired 
of  waitin',"  he  said,  pathetically.  "  Look  out 
dyah  and  see  ef  you  see  anybody,"  he  added,  sud 
denly. 

Both  of  them  obeyed,  and  then  returned  and 
stood  silent;  they  could  not  tell  him  no. 

Presently  the  woman  said,  "  Don'  you  warn 
put  you*  shut  on  ?  " 

"  What  did  you  say  my  name  was  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Ole  'Str— "  She  paused  at  the  look  of  pain 
on  his  face,  shifted  uneasily  from  one  foot  to  the 
other,  and  relapsed  into  embarrassed  silence. 

"  Nem  min' !  dee'll  know  it  —  dee'll  know  me 
'dout  any  name,  oon  dee  ?  "  He  appealed  wist 
fully  to  them  both.  The  woman  for  answer 
unfolded  the  shirt.  He  moved  feebly,  as  if  in 
assent. 

"  I  so  tired  waitin',"  he  whispered ;  "  done  'mos' 
gin  out,  an'  he  oon  come ;  but  I  thought  I  heah 
little  Eph  to-day  ?  "  There  was  a  faint  inquiry  in 
his  voice. 

"Yes,  he  wuz  heah." 

"  Wuz  he  ?  "  The  languid  form  became  in 
stantly  alert,  the  tired  face  took  on  a  look  of  eager 
expectancy.  "  Heah,  gi'  m'y  shut  quick.  I  knowed 
it.  Wait;  go  over  dyah,  son,  and  git  me  dat 
money.  He'll  be  heah  torectly."  They  thought 
his  mind  wandered,  and  merely  followed  the  di- 


OLE  'STRACTED  x63 

rection  of  his  eyes  with  theirs.  "  Go  over  dyah 
quick  —  don't  you  heah  me?" 

And  to  humor  him  Ephraim  went  over  to  the 
corner  indicated. 

"  Retch  up  dyah,  an'  run  you'  hand  in  onder  de 
second  jice.  It's  all  in  dyah,"  he  said  to  the 
woman — "twelve  hundred  dollars  —  dat's  what 
dee  went  for.  I  wucked  night  an'  day  forty  year 
to  save  dat  money  for  marster ;  you  know  dee 
teck  all  he  land  an'  all  he  niggers  an'  tu'n  him  out 
in  de  old  fiel'  ?  I  put  'tin  dyah  'ginst  he  come. 
You  ain'  know  he  comin'  dis  evenin',  is  you  ? 
Heah,  help  me  on  wid  dat  shut,  gal  —  I  stan'in' 
heah  talkin'  an'  maybe  ole  marster  waitin'.  Push 
de  do'  open  so  you  kin  see.  Forty  year  ago,"  he 
murmured,  as  Polly  jambed  the  door  back  and 
returned  to  his  side  — "  forty  year  ago  dee  come 
an'  levelled  on  me  :  marster  sutny  did  cry.  '  Nem 
min','  he  said,  *  I  comin'  right  down  in  de  sum 
mer  to  buy  you  back  an'  bring  you  home.'  He's 
comin',  too  —  nuver  tol'  me  a  lie  in  he  life — 
comin'  dis  evenin'.  Make  'aste."  This  in  trem 
ulous  eagerness  to  the  woman,  who  had  involun 
tarily  caught  the  feeling,  and  was  now  with  eager 
and  ineffectual  haste  trying  to  button  his  shirt. 

An  exclamation  from  her  husband  caused  her  to 
turn  around,  as  he  stepped  into  the  light  and  held 
up  an  old  sock  filled  with  something. 

"  Heah,  hoi'  you'  apron,"  said  the  old  man  to 
Polly,  who  gathered  up  the  lower  corners  of  her 
apron  and  stood  nearer  the  bed. 


164  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

"  Po'  it  in  dyah."  This  to  Ephraim,  who  me 
chanically  obeyed.  He  pulled  off  the  string,  and 
poured  into  his  wife's  lap  the  heap  of  glittering 
coin  —  gold  and  silver  more  than  their  eyes  had 
ever  seen  before. 

"  Hit's  all  dyah,"  said  the  old  man,  confiden 
tially,  as  if  he  were  rendering  an  account.  "  I 
been  savin'  it  ever  sence  dee  took  me  'way.  I  so 
busy  savin'  it  I  ain'  had  time  to  eat,  but  I  ain' 
hongry  now ;  have  plenty  when  I  git  home."  He 
sank  back  exhausted.  "  Oon  marster  be  glad  to 
see  me  ?  "  he  asked,  presently,  in  pathetic  sim 
plicity.  "  You  know  we  growed  up  togerr  ?  I 
been  waitin'  so  long  I  'feared  dee  'mos'  done  for- 
git  me.  You  reckon  dee  is  ? "  he  asked  the 
woman,  appealingly. 

"  No,  suh,  dee  ain'  forgit  you,"  she  said,  com 
fortingly. 

"  I  know  dee  ain',"  he  said,  reassured.  "  Dat's 
what  he  tell  me  —  he  ain'  nuver  gwine  forgit 
me."  The  reaction  had  set  in,  and  his  voice  was 
so  feeble  now  it  was  scarcely  audible.  He  was 
talking  rather  to  himself  than  to  them,  and  finally 
he  sank  into  a  doze.  A  painful  silence  reigned  in 
the  little  hut,  in  which  the  only  sign  was  the  breath 
ing  of  the  dying  man.  A  single  shaft  of  light  stole 
down  under  the  edge  of  the  slowly  passing  cloud 
and  slipped  up  to  the  door.  Suddenly  the  sleeper 
waked  with  a  start,  and  gazed  around. 

"  Hit  gittin'  mighty  dark,"  he  whispered,  faintly. 
"  You  reckon  dee'll  git  heah  'fo'  dark  ?  " 


OLE  'STRACTED  165 

The  light  was  dying  from  his  eyes. 

"  Ephum,"  said  the  woman,  softly,  to  her  hus 
band. 

The  effect  was  electrical. 

"  Heish !  you  lieah  dat !  "  exclaimed  the  dying 
man,  eagerly. 

"  Ephum " —  she  repeated.  The  rest  was 
drowned  by  Ole  'Stracted's  joyous  exclamation. 

"  Gord  !  I  knowed  it !  "  he  cried,  suddenly  ris 
ing  upright,  and,  with  beaming  face,  stretching 
both  arms  toward  the  door.  "  Dyah  dee  come  ! 
Now  watch  'em  smile.  All  y'all  jes  stand  back. 
Heah  de  one  you  lookin'  for.  Marster  —  Mymy 
—  heah's  Little  Ephum  !  "  And  with  a  smile  on 
his  face  he  sank  back  into  his  son's  arms. 

The  evening  sun,  dropping  on  the  instant  to  his 
setting,  flooded  the  room  with  light;  but  as 
Ephraim  gently  eased  him  down  and  drew  his 
arm  from  around  him,  it  was  the  light  of  the 
unending  morning  that  was  on  his  face.  His 
Master  had  at  last  come  for  him,  and  after  his 
long  waiting,  Ole  'Stracted  had  indeed  gone 
home. 


"NO  HAID  PAWN" 


"NO  HAID  PAWN" 


T  was  a  ghostly  place  in  broad  daylight, 
if  the  glimmer  that  stole  in  through 
the  dense  forest  that  surrounded  it 
e^j^^^]  when  the  sun  was  directly  overhead 
deserved  this  delusive  name.  At  any  other  time 
it  was — ,  why,  we  were  afraid  even  to  talk  about 
it !  and  as  to  venturing  within  its  gloomy  borders, 
it  was  currently  believed  among  us  that  to  do  so 
was  to  bring  upon  the  intruder  certain  death.  I 
knew  every  foot  of  ground,  wet  and  dry,  within 
five  miles  of  my  father's  house,  except  this  planta 
tion,  for  I  had  hunted  by  day  and  night  every  field, 
forest,  and  marsh  within  that  radius ;  but  the 
swamp  and  the  "  ma'shes  "  that  surrounded  this 
place  I  had  never  invaded.  The  boldest  hunter 
on  the  plantation  would  call  off  his  dogs  and  go 
home  if  they  struck  a  trail  that  crossed  the  sobby 
boundary-line  of"  No  Haid  Pawn." 
*  No-head-pond. 


1 70  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

"  Jack-'my-lanterns"  and  "evil  sperits  "  only 
infested  those  woods,  and  the  earnest  advice  of 
those  whom  we  children  acknowledged  to  know 
most  about  them  was,  "  Don't  you  never  go  nigh 
dyah,  honey;  hit's  de  evil-spiritest  place  in  dis 
wull." 

Had  not  Big  William  and  Cephas  and  Poliam 
followed  their  dogs  in  there  one  night,  and  cut 
down  a  tree  in  which  they  had  with  their  own 
eyes  seen  the  coon,  and  lo  !  when  it  fell  "  de  warn 
no  mo'  coon  dyah  'n  a  dog !  "  and  the  next  tree 
they  had  "  treed  in  "  not  only  had  no  coon  in  it, 
but  when  it  was  cut  down  it  had  fallen  on  Poliam 
and  broken  his  leg.  So  the  very  woods  were 
haunted.  From  this  time  they  were  abandoned 
to  the  "  jack-'my-lanterns  "  and  ghosts,  and  an 
other  shadow  was  added  to  No  Haid  Pawn. 

The  place  was  as  much  cut  off  from  the  rest  of 
the  country  as  if  a  sea  had  divided  it.  The  river, 
with  marshy  banks,  swept  around  it  in  a  wide 
horseshoe  on  three  sides,  and  when  the  hum 
mocks  dammed  it  up  it  washed  its  way  straight 
across  and  scoured  out  a  new  bed  for  itself,  com 
pletely  isolating  the  whole  plantation. 

The  owners  of  it,  if  there  were  any,  which  was 
doubtful,  were  aliens,  and  in  my  time  it  had  not 
been  occupied  for  forty  years.  The  negroes  de 
clared  that  it  was  "  gin  up"  to  the  "  ha'nts  an'  evil 
sperits,"  and  that  no  living  being  could  live  there. 
It  had  grown  up  in  forest  and  had  wholly  reverted 
to  original  marsh.  The  road  that  once  ran  through 


'NO  HA  ID  PAWN 


171 


the  swamp  had  long  since  been  choked  up,  and 
the  trees  were  as  thick  and  the  jungle  as  dense 
now,  in  its  track,  as  in  the  adjacent  "ma'sh." 
Only  one  path  remained.  This,  it  was  currently 
believed  by  the  entire  portion  of  the  population 
who  speculated  on  the  subject,  was  kept  open  by 
the  evil  spirits.  Certain  it  was  that  no  human 
foot  ever  trod  the  narrow,  tortuous  line  that  ran 
through  the  brakes  as  deviously  as  the  noiseless, 
stagnant  ditches  that  curved  through  the  jungle, 
where  the  musk-rats  played  and  the  moccasin 
slept  unmolested.  Yet  there  it  lay,  plain  and 
well-defined,  month  after  month  and  year  after 
year,  as  No  Haid  Pawn  itself  stood,  amid  its  sur 
rounding  swamps,  all  undisturbed  and  unchang 
ing. 

Even  the  runaway  slaves  who  occasionally  left 
their  homes  and  took  to  the  swamps  and  woods, 
impelled  by  the  cruelty  of  their  overseers,  or  by  a 
desire  for  a  vain  counterfeit  of  freedom,  never 
tried  this  swamp,  but  preferred  to  be  caught  'and 
returned  home  to  invading  its  awful  shades. 

We  were  brought  up  to  believe  in  ghosts.  Our 
fathers  and  mothers  laughed  at  us,  and  endeavored 
to  reason  us  out  of  such  a  superstition — the  fathers 
with  much  of  ridicule  and  satire,  the  mothers  giv 
ing  sweet  religious  reasons  for  their  argument; — 
but  what  could  they  avail  against  the  actual  testi 
mony  and  the  blood-curdling  experiences  of  a 
score  of  witnesses,  who  recounted  their  personal 
observations  with  a  degree  of  thrilling  realism 


1 72  IN   OLE    VIRGINIA 

and  a  vividness  that  overbore  any  arguments  our 
childish  reason  could  grasp  !  The  old  mammies 
and  uncles  who  were  our  companions  and  com 
rades  believed  in  the  existence  of  evil  spirits  as 
truly  as  in  the  existence  of  hell  or  heaven,  as  to 
which  at  that  time  no  question  had  ever  been 
raised,  so  far  as  was  known,  in  that  slumberous 
world.  [The  Bible  was  the  standard,  and  all  dis 
putes  were  resolved  into  an  appeal  to  that  au 
thority,  the  single  question  as  to  any  point  being 
simply,  "  Is  it  in  the  Bible  ?  "]  Had  not  Lazarus, 
and  Mam'  Celia,  and  William,  and  Twis'-foot-Bob, 
and  Aunt  Sukie  Brown,  and  others  seen  with  their 
own  eyes  the  evil  spirits,  again  and  again,  in  the 
bodily  shape  of  cats,  headless  dogs,  white  cows, 
and  other  less  palpable  forms  !  And  was  not 
their  experience,  who  lived  in  remote  cabins,  or 
wandered  night  after  night  through  the  loneliest 
woods,  stronger  evidence  than  the  cold  reasoning 
of  those  who  hardly  ever  stirred  abroad  except  in 
daylight  ?  It  certainly  was  more  conclusive  to 
us ;  for  no  one  could  have  listened  to  those  nar 
rators  without  being  impressed  with  the  fact  that 
they  were  recounting  what  they  had  actually  seen 
with  their  bodily  eyes.  The  result  of  it  all  was, 
so  far  as  we  were  concerned,  the  triumph  of  faith 
over  reason,  and  the  fixed  belief,  on  our  part,  in 
the  actual  visible  existence  of  the  departed,  in  the 
sinister  forms  of  apparition  known  as  "  evil  sper- 
its."  Every  graveyard  was  tenanted  by  them; 
every  old  house  and  every  peculiarly  desolate  spot 


"NO  HA  ID  PAWN"  173 

were  known  to  be  their  rendezvous  ;  but  all  spots 
and  places  sank  into  insignificance  compared  with 
No  Haid  Pawn. 

The  very  name  was  uncanny.  Originally  it  had 
designated  a  long,  stagnant  pool  of  water  lying  in 
the  centre  of  the  tract,  which  marked  the  spot 
from  which  the  soil  had  been  dug  to  raise  the  ele 
vation  on  which  to  set  the  house.  More  modernly 
the  place,  by  reason  of  the  filling  up  of  ditches 
and  the  sinking  of  dikes,  had  become  again  simple 
swamp  and  jungle,  or,  to  use  the  local  expression, 
"  had  turned  to  ma'sh,"  and  the  name  applied  to 
the  whole  plantation. 

The  origin  of  the  name?  the  pond  had  no 
source  or  head  ;  but  we  children  knew  that  there 
was  a  better  explanation  than  that.  Anyhow,  the 
very  name  inspired  dread,  and  the  place  was  our 
terror. 

The  house  had  been  built  many  generations  be 
fore  by  one  who  was  a  stranger  in  this  section, 
and  the  owners  had  never  made  it  their  permanent 
home.  Thus,  no  ties  either  of  blood  or  friendship 
were  formed  with  their  neighbors,  who  were  cer 
tainly  open-hearted  and  open-doored  enough  to 
overcome  anything  but  the  most  persistent  un- 
neighborliness. 

Why  this  spot  was  selected  for  a  mansion  was 
always  a  mystery,  unless  it  was  that  the  new 
comer  desired  to  isolate  himself  completely.  In 
stead  of  following  the  custom  of  those  who  were 
native  and  to  the  manner  born,  who  always  chose 


i74  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

some  eminence  for  their  seats,  he  had  selected  for 
his  a  spot  in  the  middle  of  the  wide  flat  which  lay 
in  the  horseshoe  of  the  river.  The  low  ground, 
probably  owing  to  the  abundance  of  land  in  that 
country,  had  never  been  "  taken  up,"  and  until 
the  time  of  his  occupation  was  in  a  condition  of 
primeval  swamp.  He  had  to  begin  by  making  an 
artificial  mound  for  his  mansion.  Even  then,  it 
Avas  said,  he  dug  so  deep  that  he  laid  the  corner 
stone  in  water.  The  foundation  was  of  stone, 
which  was  brought  from  a  distance.  Fabulous 
stories  were  told  of  it.  The  negroes  declared  that 
under  the  old  house  were  solid  rock  chambers, 
which  had  been  built  for  dungeons,  and  had  served 
for  purposes  which  were  none  the  less  awful  be 
cause  they  were  vague  and  indefinite.  The  huge 
structure  itself  was  of  wood,  and  was  alleged  to 
contain  many  mysterious  rooms  and  underground 
passages.  One  of  the  latter  was  said  to  connect 
with  the  No  Haid  Pawn  itself,  whose  dark  waters, 
according  to  the  negroes'  tradition,  were  some  day, 
by  some  process  not  wholly  consistent  with  the 
laws  of  physics,  to  overwhelm  the  fated  pile. 

An  evil  destiny  had  seemed  to  overshadow  the 
place  from  the  very  beginning.  One  of  the  negro 
builders  had  been  accidentally  caught  and  decapi 
tated  between  two  of  the  immense  foundation 
stones.  The  tradition  was  handed  down  that  he 
was  sacrificed  in  some  awful  and  occult  rite  con 
nected  with  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone.  Later 
on  the  scaffolding  had  given  way  and  had  precipi- 


"NO  HA  ID  PAWN"  175 

tated  several  men  to  the  ground,  most  of  whom 
had  been  fatally  hurt.  This  also  was  alleged 
among  the  slaves  in  the  neighborhood  to  have 
been  by  hideous  design.  Then  the  plantation,  in 
the  process  of  being  reclaimed,  had  proved  un 
healthy  beyond  all  experience,  and  the  negroes 
employed  in  the  work  of  dyking  and  reclaiming 
the  great  swamp  had  sickened  and  died  by  dozens. 
The  extension  of  the  dangerous  fever  to  the  ad 
joining  plantations  had  left  a  reputation  for  typhus 
malaria  from  which  the  whole  section  suffered  for 
a  time.  But  this  did  not  prevent  the  colored  pop 
ulation  from  recounting  year  after  year  the  horrors 
of  the  pestilence  of  No  Haid  Pawn  as  a  peculiar 
visitation,  nor  from  relating  with  blood-curdling 
details  the  burial  by  scores,  in  a  thicket  just  be 
side  the  pond,  of  the  stricken  "  befo'  dee  daid, 
honey,  befo'  dee  da  id/  "  The  bodies,  it  was  af 
firmed,  used  to  float  about  in  the  guts  of  the 
swamp  and  on  the  haunted  pond ;  and  at  night 
they  might  be  seen,  if  any  one  were  so  hardy  as  to 
venture  there,  rowing  about  in  their  coffins  as  if 
they  were  boats. 

Thus  No  Haid  Pawn  from  the  beginning  had 
an  evil  name,  and  when,  year  after  year,  the  river 
rose  and  washed  the  levees  away,  or  the  musk- 
rats  burrowed  through  and  let  the  water  in,  and 
the  strange  masters  cursed  not  only  the  elements 
but  Heaven  itself,  the  continued  mortality  of  their 
negroes  was  not  wholly  unexpected  nor  unac 
counted  for  by  certain  classes  of  their  neighbors. 


176  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

At  length  the  property  had  fallen  to  one  more 
gloomy,  more  strange,  and  more  sinister  than  any 
who  had  gone  before  him  —  a  man  whose  personal 
characteristics  and  habits  were  unique  in  that 
country.  He  was  of  gigantic  stature  and  super 
human  strength,  and  possessed  appetites  and  vices 
in  proportion  to  his  size.  He  could  fell  an  ox 
with  a  blow  of  his  fist,  or  in  a  fit  of  anger  could 
tear  down  the  branch  of  a  tree,  or  bend  a  bar  of 
iron  like  a  reed.  He,  either  from  caprice  or  ig 
norance,  spoke  only  a  patois  not  unlike  the  Creole 
French  of  the  Louisiana  parishes.  But  he  was  a 
West  Indian.  His  brutal  temper  and  habits  cut 
him  off  from  even  the  small  measure  of  inter 
course  which  had  existed  between  his  prede 
cessors  and  their  neighbors,  and  he  lived  at  No 
Haid  Pawn  completely  isolated.  All  the  stories 
and  traditions  of  the  place  at  once  centred  on  him, 
and  fabulous  and  awful  tales  were  told  of  his 
prowess  and  of  his  life.  It  was  said,  among  other 
things,  that  he  preserved  his  wonderful  strength 
by  drinking  human  blood,  a  tale  which  in  a  certain 
sense  I  have  never  seen  reason  to  question.  Mak 
ing  all  allowances,  his  life  was  a  blot  upon  civiliza 
tion.  At  length  it  culminated.  A  brutal  temper, 
inflamed  by  unbridled  passions,  after  a  long  period 
of  license  and  debauchery  came  to  a  climax  in  a 
final  orgy  of  ferocity  and  fury,  in  which  he  was 
guilty  of  an  act  whose  fiendishness  surpassed  be 
lief,  and  he  was  brought  to  judgment. 

In  modern  times  the  very  inhumanity  of  the 


"NO  HA  ID  PAWN"  177 

crime  would  probably  have  proved  his  security, 
and  as  he  had  destroyed  his  own  property  while  he 
was  perpetrating  a  crime  of  appalling  and  unpar 
alleled  horror,  he  might  have  found  a  defence  in 
that  standing  refuge  of  extraordinary  scoundrelism 
—  insanity.  This  defence,  indeed,  was  put  in,  and 
was  pressed  with  much  ability  by  his  counsel,  one 
of  whom  was  my  father,  who  had  just  then  been 
admitted  to  the  bar  ;  but,  fortunately  for  the  cause 
of  justice,  neither  courts  nor  juries  were  then  so 
sentimental  as  they  have  become  of  late  years,  and 
the  last  occupant  of  No  Haid  Pawn  paid  under 
the  law  the  full  penalty  of  his  hideous  crime.  It 
was  one  of  the  curious  incidents  of  the  trial  that 
his  negroes  all  lamented  his  death,  and  declared 
that  he  was  a  good  master  when  he  was  not  drunk. 
He  was  hanged  just  at  the  rear  of  his  own  house, 
within  sight  of  the  spot  where  his  awful  crime  was 
committed. 

At  his  execution,  which,  according  to  the  cus 
tom  of  the  country,  was  public,  a  horrible  coinci 
dence  occurred  which  furnished  the  text  of  many 
a  sermon  on  retributive  justice  among  the  ne 
groes. 

The  body  was  interred  near  the  pond,  close  by 
the  thicket  where  the  slaves  were  buried ;  but  the 
negroes  declared  that  it  preferred  one  of  the  stone 
chambers  under  the  mansion,  where  it  made  its 
home,  and  that  it  might  be  seen  at  any  time  of 
the  day  or  night  stalking  headless  about  the  place. 
They  used  to  dwell  with  peculiar  zest  on  the  most 


i78  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

agonizing  details  of  this  wretch's  dreadful  crime, 
the  whole  culminating  in  the  final  act  of  maniacal 
fury,  when  the  gigantic  monster  dragged  the 
hacked  and  headless  corpse  of  his  victim  up  the 
staircase  and  stood  it  up  before  the  open  window 
in  his  hall,  in  the  full  view  of  the  terrified  slaves. 
After  these  narrations,  the  continued  reappear 
ance  of  the  murderer  and  his  headless  victim  was 
as  natural  to  us  as  it  was  to  the  negroes  them 
selves  ;  and,  as  night  after  night  we  would  hurry 
up  to  the  great  house  through  the  darkness,  we 
were  ever  on  the  watch  lest  he  should  appear  to 
our  frighted  vision  from  the  shades  of  the  shrub 
bery-filled  yard. 

Thus  it  was  that  of  all  ghostly  places  No  Haid 
Pawn  had  the  distinction  of  being  invested,  to  us, 
with  unparalleled  horror ;  and  thus  to  us,  no  less 
than  because  the  dykes  had  given  way  and  the 
overflowed  flats  had  turned  again  to  swamp  and 
jungle,  it  was  explicable  that  No  Haid  Pawn  was 
abandoned,  and  was  now  untrodden  by  any  foot 
but  that  of  its  ghostly  tenants. 

The  time  of  my  story  was  185-.  The  spring 
previous  continuous  rains  had  kept  the  river  full, 
and  had  flooded  the  low  grounds,  and  this  had 
been  followed  by  an  exceptionally  dense  growth 
in  the  summer.  Then,  public  feeling  was  greatly 
excited  at  the  time  of  which  I  write,  over  the  dis 
covery  in  the  neighborhood  of  several  emissaries 
of  the  underground  railway,  or  —  as  they  were 
universally  considered  in  that  country  —  of  the 


"NO  HAID  PAWN"  179 

devil.  They  had  been  run  off  or  had  disappeared 
suddenly,  but  had  left  behind  them  some  little  ex 
citement  on  the  part  of  the  slaves,  and  a  great  deal 
on  the  part  of  their  masters,  and  more  than  the 
usual  number  of  negroes  had  run  away.  All,  how 
ever,  had  been  caught,  or  had  returned  home 
after  a  sufficient  interval  of  freedom,  except  one 
who  had  escaped  permanently,  and  who  was  sup 
posed  to  have  accompanied  his  instigators  on  their 
flight. 

This  man  was  a  well-known  character.  He  be 
longed  to  one  of  our  neighbors,  and  had  been 
bought  and  brought  there  from  an  estate  on  the 
Lower  Mississippi.  He  was  the  most  brutal  negro 
I  ever  knew.  He  was  of  a  type  rarely  found 
among  our  negroes,  who,  judging  from  their 
physiognomy  and  general  characteristics,  came 
principally  from  the  coast  of  Africa.  They  are  of 
moderate  stature,  with  dull  but  amiable  faces.  This 
man,  however,  was  of  immense  size,  and  he  pos 
sessed  the  features  and  expression  of  a  Congo  des 
perado.  In  character  also  he  differed  essentially 
from  all  the  other  slaves  in  our  country.  He  was 
alike  without  their  amiability  and  their  docility, 
and  was  as  fearless  as  he  was  brutal.  He  was 
the  only  negro  I  ever  knew  who  was  without 
either  superstition  or  reverence.  Indeed,  he  dif 
fered  so  widely  from  the  rest  of  the  slaves  in  that 
section  that  there  existed  some  feeling  against  him 
almost  akin  to  a  race  feeling.  At  the  same  time, 
however,  that  he  exercised  considerable  influence 


i8o  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

over  them  they  were  dreadfully  afraid  of  him,  and 
were  always  in  terror  that  he  would  trick  them, 
to  which  awful  power  he  laid  well-known  claim. 
His  curses  in  his  strange  dialect  used  to  terrify 
them  beyond  measure,  and  they  would  do  any 
thing  to  conciliate  him.  He  had  been  a  continual 
source  of  trouble  and  an  object  of  suspicion  in  the 
neighborhood  from  the  time  of  his  first  appear 
ance  ;  and  more  than  one  hog  that  the  negroes 
declared  had  wandered  into  the  marshes  of  No 
Haid  Pawn,  and  had  "  cut  his  thote  jes'  swimin' 
aroun*  an'  aroun'  in  de  ma'sh,"  had  been  sus 
pected  of  finding  its  way  to  this  man's  cabin.  His 
master  had  often  been  urged  to  get  rid  of  him,  but 
he  was  kept,  I  think,  probably  because  he  was 
valuable  on  the  plantation.  He  was  a  fine  butcher, 
a  good  work-hand,  and  a  first-class  boatman. 
Moreover,  ours  was  a  conservative  population,  in 
which  every  man  minded  his  own  business  and 
let  his  neighbor's  alone. 

At  the  time  of  the  visits  of  those  secret  agents 
to  which  I  have  referred,  this  negro  was  discov 
ered  to  be  the  leader  in  the  secret  meetings  held 
under  their  auspices,  and  he  would  doubtless  have 
been  taken  up  and  shipped  off  at  once ;  but  when 
the  intruders  fled,  as  I  have  related,  their  convert 
disappeared  also.  It  was  a  subject  of  general 
felicitation  in  the  neighborhood  that  he  was  got 
rid  of,  and  his  master,  instead  of  being  commiser 
ated  on  the  loss  of  his  slave,  was  congratulated 
that  he  had  not  cut  his  throat. 


"NO  HAID  PAWN"  181 

No  idea  can  be  given  at  this  date  of  the  excite 
ment  occasioned  in  a  quiet  neighborhood  in  old 
times  by  the  discovery  of  the  mere  presence  of 
such  characters  as  Abolitionists.  It  was  as  if  the 
foundations  of  the  whole  social  fabric  were  under 
mined.  It  was  the  sudden  darkening  of  a  shadow 
that  always  hung  in  the  horizon.  The  slaves 
were  in  a  large  majority,  and  had  they  risen, 
though  the  final  issue  could  not  be  doubted,  the 
lives  of  every  white  on  the  plantations  must  have 
paid  the  forfeit.  Whatever  the  right  and  wrong 
of  slavery  might  have  been,  its  existence  de 
manded  that  no  outside  interference  with  it 
should  be  tolerated.  So  much  was  certain ;  self- 
preservation  required  this. 

I  was,  at  the  time  of  which  I  speak,  a  well- 
grown  lad,  and  had  been  for  two  sessions  to  a 
boarding-school,  where  I  had  got  rid  of  some 
portion  —  I  will  not  say  of  all  —  of  the  superstition 
of  my  boyhood.  The  spirit  of  adventure  was  be 
ginning  to  assert  itself  in  me,  and  I  had  begun  to 
feel  a  sense  of  enjoyment  in  overcoming  the  fears 
which  had  once  mastered  me,  though,  I  must 
confess,  I  had  not  entirely  shaken  off  my  belief  in 
the  existence  of  ghosts  —  that  is,  I  did  not  believe 
in  them  at  all  in  the  day-time,  but  when  night 
came  I  was  not  so  certain  about  it. 

Duck-hunting  was  my  favorite  sport,  and  the 
marshes  on  the  river  were  fine  ground  for  them 
usually,  but  this  season  the  weather  had  been  so 
singularly  warm  that  the  sport  had  been  poor, 


i8a  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

and  though  I  had  scoured  every  canal  in  the 
marsh  and  every  bend  in  the  river  as  far  as  "  No 
Haid  Pawn  Hummock,"  as  the  stretch  of  drifted 
timber  and  treacherous  marsh  was  called  that 
marked  the  boundary-line  of  that  plantation,  I  had 
had  bad  luck.  Beyond  that  point  I  had  never 
penetrated,  partly,  no  doubt,  because  of  the  train 
ing  of  my  earlier  years,  and  partly  because  the 
marsh  on  either  side  of  the  hummock  would  have 
mired  a  cat.  Often,  as  I  watched  with  envious 
eyes  the  wild  duck  rise  up  over  the  dense  trees 
that  surrounded  the  place  and  cut  straight  for  the 
deserted  marshes  in  the  horseshoe,  I  had  had  a 
longing  to  invade  the  mysterious  domain,  and 
crawl  to  the  edge  of  No  Haid  Pawn  and  get  a 
shot  at  the  game  that  floated  on  its  black  surface; 
but  something  had  always  deterred  me,  and  the 
long  reaches  of  No  Haid  Pawn  were  left  to  the 
wild-fowl  and  the  ghostly  rowers.  Finally,  how 
ever,  after  a  spell  whose  high  temperature  was 
rather  suited  to  August  than  April,  in  desperation 
at  my  ill-luck  I  determined  to  gratify  my  curiosity 
and  try  No  Haid  Pawn.  So  one  afternoon,  with 
out  telling  any  one  of  my  intention,  I  crossed  the 
mysterious  boundary  and  struck  through  the 
swamp  for  the  unknown  land. 

The  marsh  was  far  worse  than  I  had  anticipated, 
and  no  one  but  a  duck-hunter  as  experienced  and 
zealous  as  myself,  and  as  indifferent  to  ditches, 
briers,  mire,  and  all  that  makes  a  swamp,  could 
have  penetrated  it  at  all.  Even  I  could  never 


"NO  HAID  PAWN"  183 

have  gotten  on  if  I  had  not  followed  the  one  trail 
that  led  into  the  marsh,  the  reputed  "  parf "  of  the 
evil  spirits,  and,  as  it  was,  my  progress  was  both 
tedious  and  dangerous. 

The  track  was  a  mysterious  one,  for  though  I 
knew  it  had  not  been  trodden  by  a  human  foot  in 
many  years,  yet  there,  a  veritable  "parf,"  it  lay. 
In  some  places  it  was  almost  completely  lost,  and 
I  would  fear  I  should  have  to  turn  back,  but  an 
overhanging  branch  or  a  vine  swinging  from  one 
tree  to  another  would  furnish  a  way  to  some  spot 
where  the  narrow  trail  began  again.  In  other 
spots  old  logs  thrown  across  the  miry  canals  gave 
me  an  uncomfortable  feeling  as  I  reflected  what 
feet  had  last  crossed  on  them.  On  both  sides  of 
this  shadowy  line  the  marsh  was  either  an  impen 
etrable  jungle  or  a  mire  apparently  bottomless. 

I  shall  never  forget  my  sensations  as  I  finally 
emerged  from  the  woods  into  the  clearing,  if  that 
desolate  waste  of  willows,  cane,  and  swamp  growth 
could  be  so  termed.  About  me  stretched  the 
jungle,  over  which  a  greenish  lurid  atmosphere 
brooded,  and  straight  ahead  towered  the  gaunt 
mansion,  a  rambling  pile  of  sombre  white,  with 
numberless  vacant  windows  staring  at  me  like 
eyeless  sockets  from  the  leafless  trees  about  it. 
Only  one  other  clump  of  trees  appeared  above  the 
canes  and  brush,  and  that  I  knew  by  intuition  was 
the  graveyard. 

I  think  I  should  have  turned  back  had  not  shame 
impelled  me  forward. 


i84  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

My  progress  from  this  point  was  even  more  dif 
ficult  than  it  had  been  hitherto,  for  the  trail  at  the 
end  of  the  wood  terminated  abruptly  in  a  gut  of 
the  swamp;  however,  I  managed  to  keep  on  by 
walking  on  hummocks,  pushing  through  clumps 
of  bushes,  and  wading  as  best  I  could.  It  was 
slow  and  hot  work,  though. 

It  never  once  struck  me  that  it  must  be  getting 
late.  I  had  become  so  accustomed  to  the  gloom 
of  the  woods  that  the  more  open  ground  appeared 
quite  light  to  me,  and  I  had  not  paid  any  atten 
tion  to  the  black  cloud  that  had  been  for  some 
time  gathering  overhead,  or  to  the  darkening  at 
mosphere. 

I  suddenly  became  sensible  that  it  was  going  to 
rain.  However,  I  was  so  much  engrossed  in  the 
endeavor  to  get  on  that  even  then  I  took  little 
note  of  it.  The  nearer  I  came  to  the  house  the 
more  it  arrested  my  attention,  and  the  more  weird 
and  uncanny  it  looked.  Canes  and  bushes  grew 
up  to  the  very  door;  the  window-shutters  hung 
from  the  hinges ;  the  broken  windows  glared ; 
the  portico  had  fallen  away  from  the  wall,  while 
the  wide  door  stood  slightly  ajar,  giving  to  the 
place  a  singularly  ghastly  appearance,  somewhat 
akin  to  the  color  which  sometimes  lingers  on  the 
face  of  a  corpse.  In  my  progress  wading  through 
the  swamp  I  had  gone  around  rather  to  the  side  of 
the  house  toward  where  I  supposed  the  "pawn  " 
itself  to  lie. 

I  was  now  quite  near  to  it,  and  striking  a  little 


"NO  HA  ID  PAWN"  185 

less  miry  ground,  as  I  pushed  my  way  through 
the  bushes  and  canes,  which  were  higher  than  my 
head,  I  became  aware  that  I  was  very  near  the 
thicket  that  marked  the  graveyard,  just  beyond 
which  I  knew  the  pond  itself  lay.  I  was  some 
what  startled,  for  the  cloud  made  it  quite  dusky, 
and,  stepping  on  a  long  piece  of  rotten  timber  ly 
ing  on  the  ground,  I  parted  the  bushes  to  look 
down  the  pond.  As  I  did  so  the  rattle  of  a  chain 
grated  on  me,  and,  glancing  up  through  the  cane, 
above  me  appeared  a  heavy  upright  timber  with  an 
arm  or  cross-beam  stretching  from  it,  from  which 
dangled  a  long  chain,  almost  rusted  away.  I 
knew  by  instinct  that  I  stood  under  the  gallows 
where  the  murderer  of  No  Haid  Pawn  had  expi 
ated  his  dreadful  crime.  His  corpse  must  have 
fallen  just  where  I  stood.  I  started  back  appalled. 

Just  then  the  black  cloud  above  me  was  parted 
by  a  vivid  flame,  and  a  peal  of  thunder  seemed  to 
rive  the  earth. 

I  turned  in  terror,  but  before  I  had  gone  fifty 
yards  the  storm  was  upon  me,  and  instinctively  I 
made  for  the  only  refuge  that  was  at  hand.  It 
was  a  dreadful  alternative,  but  I  did  not  hesitate. 
Outside  I  was  not  even  sure  that  my  life  was  safe. 
And  with  extraordinary  swiftness  I  had  made  my 
way  through  the  broken  iron  fence  that  lay  rust 
ing  in  the  swamp,  had  traversed  the  yard,  all 
grown  up  as  it  was  to  the  very  threshold,  had  as 
cended  the  sunken  steps,  crossed  the  rotted  por 
tico,  and  entered  the  open  door. 


1 86  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

A  long  dark  hall  stretched  before  me,  extend- 
ing,  as  well  as  I  could  judge  in  the  gloom,  en 
tirely  across  the  house.  A  number  of  doors,  some 
shut,  some  ajar,  opened  on  the  hall  on  one  side; 
and  a  broad,  dark  stairway  ascended  on  the  other 
to  the  upper  story.  The  walls  were  black  with 
mould.  At  the  far  end  a  large  bow-window,  with 
all  the  glass  gone,  looked  out  on  the  waste  of 
swamp,  unbroken  save  by  the  clump  of  trees  in 
the  graveyard,  and  just  beside  this  window  was  a 
break  where  the  dark  staircase  descended  to  the 
apartments  below.  The  whole  place  was  in  a  state 
of  advanced  decay;  almost  the  entire  plastering 
had  fallen  with  the  damp,  and  the  hall  presented 
a  scene  of  desolation  that  beggars  description. 

I  was  at  last  in  the  haunted  house  ! 

The  rain,  driven  by  the  wind,  poured  in  at  the 
broken  windows  in  such  a  deluge  that  I  was  forced 
in  self-defence  to  seek  shelter  in  one  of  the  rooms. 
I  tried  several,  but  the  doors  were  swollen  or  fast 
ened  ;  I  found  one,  however,  on  the  leeward  side 
of  the  house,  and,  pushing  the  door,  which  opened 
easily,  I  entered.  Inside  I  found  something  like 
an  old  bed,  and  the  great  open  fireplace  had  evi 
dently  been  used  at  some  earlier  time,  for  the  ashes 
were  still  banked  up  in  the  cavernous  hearth,  and 
the  charred  ends  of  the  logs  of  wood  were  yet 
lying  in  the  chimney  corners.  To  see,  still  as  fresh 
and  natural  as  though  the  fire  had  but  just  died 
out,  these  remnants  of  domestic  life  that  had  sur 
vived  all  else  of  a  similar  period  struck  me  as  un- 


"NO  HAW  PAWN"  187 

speakably  ghastly.  The  bedstead,  however,  though 
rude,  was  convenient  as  a  seat,  and  I  utilized  it 
accordingly,  propping  myself  up  against  one  of 
the  rough  posts.  From  my  position  I  commanded 
through  the  open  door  the  entire  length  of  the  va 
cant  hall,  and  could  look  straight  out  of  the  great 
bow-window  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  through 
which  appeared,  against  the  dull  sky,  the  black 
mass  of  the  graveyard  trees,  and  a  stretch  of  one 
of  the  canals  or  guts  of  the  swamp  curving  around 
it,  which  gleamed  white  in  the  glare  of  the  light 
ning. 

I  had  expected  that  the  storm  would,  like  most 
thunder-storms  in  the  latitude,  shortly  exhaust 
itself,  or,  as  we  say,  "  blow  over  "  ;  but  I  was  mis 
taken,  and  as  the  time  passed,  its  violence,  instead 
of  diminishing,  increased.  It  grew  darker  and 
darker,  and  presently  the  startling  truth  dawned 
upon  me  that  the  gloom  which  I  had  supposed 
simply  the  effect  of  the  overshadowing  cloud  had 
been  really  nightfall.  I  was  shut  up  alone  in  No 
Haid  Pawn  for  the  night ! 

I  hastened  to  the  door  with  the  intention  of 
braving  the  storm  and  getting  away ;  but  I  was 
almost  blown  off  my  feet.  A  glance  without 
showed  me  that  the  guts  with  which  the  swamp 
was  traversed  in  every  direction  were  now  full 
to  the  brim,  and  to  attempt  to  find  my  way 
home  in  the  darkness  would  be  sheer  madness  ; 
so,  after  a  wistful  survey,  I  returned  to  my 
wretched  perch.  I  thought  I  would  try  and  light 


i88  ,IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

a  fire,  but  to  my  consternation  I  had  not  a  match, 
and  I  finally  abandoned  myself  to  my  fate.  It  was 
a  desolate,  if  not  despairing,  feeling  that  I  expe 
rienced.  My  mind  was  filled,  not  only  with  my 
own  unhappiness,  but  with  the  thought  of  the 
distress  my  absence  would  occasion  them  at  home; 
and  for  a  little  while  I  had  a  fleeting  hope  that  a 
party  would  be  sent  out  to  search  for  me.  This, 
however,  was  untenable,  for  they  would  not  know 
where  I  was.  The  last  place  in  which  they  would 
ever  think  of  looking  for  me  was  No  Haid  Pawn, 
and  even  if  they  knew  I  was  there  they  could  no 
more  get  to  me  in  the  darkness  and  storm  than  I 
could  escape  from  it. 

I  accordingly  propped  myself  up  on  my  bed  and 
gave  myself  up  to  my  reflections.  I  said  my  pray 
ers  very  fervently.  I  thought  I  would  try  and  get 
to  sleep,  but  sleep  was  far  from  my  eyes. 

My  surroundings  were  too  vivid  to  my  appre 
hension.  The  awful  traditions  of  the  place,  do 
what  I  might  to  banish  them,  would  come  to  mind. 
The  original  building  of  the  house,  and  its  blood 
stained  foundation  stones ;  the  dead  who  had  died 
of  the  pestilence  that  had  raged  afterward ;  the 
bodies  carted  by  scores  and  buried  in  the  sobby 
earth  of  the  graveyard,  whose  trees  loomed  up 
through  the  broken  window ;  the  dreadful  story 
of  the  dead  paddling  about  the  swamp  in  their 
coffins  ;  and,  above  all,  the  gigantic  maniac  whose 
ferocity  even  murder  could  not  satiate,  and  who 
had  added  to  murder  awful  mutilation :  he  had 


"NO  HA  ID  PAWN"  189 

dragged  the  mangled  corpse  of  his  victim  up  those 
very  steps  and  flung  it  out  of  the  very  window 
which  gaped  just  beyond  me  in  the  glare  of  the 
lightning.  It  all  passed  through  my  mind  as  I  sat 
there  in  the  darkness,  and  no  effort  of  my  will 
could  keep  my  thoughts  from  dwelling  on  it.  The 
terrific  thunder,  outcrashing  a  thousand  batteries, 
at  times  engrossed  my  attention ;  but  it  always 
reverted  to  that  scene  of  horror ;  and  if  I  dozed 
the  slamming  of  the  loose  blinds,  or  the  terrific 
fury  of  the  storm,  would  suddenly  startle  me. 
Once,  as  the  sounds  subsided  for  a  moment,  or 
else  as  I,  having  become  familiar  with  them,  was 
sinking  into  a  sleepy  state,  a  door  at  the  other  end 
of  the  hall  creaked  and  then  slammed  with  vio 
lence,  bringing  me  bolt  upright  on  the  bed, 
clutching  my  gun.  I  could  have  sworn  that  I 
heard  footsteps ;  but  the  wind  was  blowing  a 
hurricane,  and,  after  another  period  of  wakeful- 
ness  and  dreadful  recollection,  nature  succumbed, 
and  I  fell  asleep. 

I  do  not  know  that  I  can  be  said  to  have  lost 
consciousness  even  then,  for  my  mind  was  still  en 
chained  by  the  horrors  of  my  situation,  and  went 
on  clinging  to  them  and  dwelling  upon  them  even 
in  my  slumber. 

I  was,  however,  certainly  asleep ;  for  the  storm 
must  have  died  temporarily  away  about  this  hour 
without  my  knowing  it,  and  I  subsequently  heard 
that  it  did. 

I  must  have  slept  several  hours,  for  I  was  quite 


i9o  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

stiff  from  my  constrained  posture  when  I  became 
fully  aroused. 

I  was  awakened  by  a  very  peculiar  sound ;  it 
was  like  a  distant  call  or  halloo.  Although  I  had 
been  fast  asleep  a  moment  before,  it  startled  me 
into  a  state  of  the  highest  attention.  In  a  second 
I  was  wide  awake.  There  was  not  a  sound  ex 
cept  the  rumble  and  roll  of  the  thunder,  as  the 
storm  once  more  began  to  renew  itself,  and  in  the 
segment  of  the  circle  that  I  could  see  along  the 
hall  through  my  door,  and,  indeed,  out  through 
the  yawning  window  at  the  end,  as  far  as  the  black 
clump  of  trees  in  the  graveyard  just  at  the  bend  of 
the  canal,  which  I  commanded  from  my  seat  when 
ever  there  was  a  flash  of  lightning,  there  was  only 
the  swaying  of  the  bushes  in  the  swamp  and  of 
the  trees  in  the  graveyard.  Yet,  there  I  sat  bolt 
upright  on  my  bed,  in  the  darkness,  with  every 
nerve  strained  to  its  utmost  tension,  and  that  un 
earthly  cry  still  sounding  in  my  ears.  I  was  en 
deavoring  to  reason  myself  into  the  belief  that  I 
had  dreamed  it,  when  a  flash  of  lightning  lit  up 
the  whole  field  of  my  vision  as  if  it  had  been  in 
the  focus  of  a  sun-glass,  and  out  on  the  canal, 
where  it  curved  around  the  graveyard,  was  a  boat 
—  a  something  —  small,  black,  with  square  ends, 
and  with  a  man  in  it,  standing  upright,  and  some 
thing  lying  in  a  lump  or  mass  at  the  bow. 

I  knew  I  could  not  be  mistaken,  for  the  light 
ning,  by  a  process  of  its  own,  photographs  every 
thing  on  the  retina  in  minutest  detail,  and  I  had  a 


"NO  HAID  PAU'N"  191 

vivid  impression  of  everything  from  the  foot  of 
the  bed,  on  which  I  crouched,  to  the  gaunt  arms 
of  those  black  trees  in  the  graveyard  just  over  that 
ghostly  boatman  and  his  dreadful  freight.  I  was 
wide  awake. 

The  story  of  the  dead  rowing  in  their  coffins 
was  verified. 

I  am  unable  to  state  what  passed  in  the  next 
few  minutes. 

The  storm  had  burst  again  with  renewed  vio 
lence  and  was  once  more  expending  itself  on  the 
house  ;  the  thunder  was  again  rolling  overhead  ; 
the  broken  blinds  were  swinging  and  slamming 
madly ;  and  the  dreadful  memories  of  the  place 
were  once  more  besetting  me. 

I  shifted  my  position  to  relieve  the  cramp  it  had 
occasioned,  still  keeping  my  face  toward  that  fatal 
window.  As  I  did  so,  I  heard  above,  or  perhaps 
I  should  say  under,  the  storm  a  sound  more  ter 
rible  to  me  —  the  repetition  of  that  weird  halloo, 
this  time  almost  under  the  great  window.  Imme 
diately  succeeding  this  was  the  sound  of  some 
thing  scraping  under  the  wall,  and  I  was  sensible 
when  a  door  on  the  ground- floor  was  struck  with 
a  heavy  thud.  It  was  pitch-dark,  but  I  heard  the 
door  pushed  wide  open,  and  as  a  string  of  fierce 
oaths,  part  English  and  part  Creole  French, 
floated  up  the  dark  stairway,  muffled  as  if  sworn 
through  clinched  teeth,  I  held  my  breath.  I  re 
called  the  unknown  tongue  the  murderer  em 
ployed  ;  and  I  knew  that  the  murderer  of  No 


193  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

Haid  Pawn  had  left  his  grave,  and  that  his  ghost 
was  coming  up  that  stair.  I  heard  his  step  as  it 
fell  on  the  first  stair  heavily  yet  almost  noise 
lessly.  It  was  an  unearthly  sound  —  dull,  like 
the  tread  of  a  bared  foot,  accompanied  by  the 
scraping  sound  of  a  body  dragging.  Step  by  step 
he  came  up  the  black  stairway  in  the  pitch  dark 
ness  as  steadily  as  if  it  were  daytime  and  he  knew 
every  step,  accompanied  by  that  sickening  sound 
of  dragging.  There  was  a  final  pull  up  the  last 
step,  and  a  dull,  heavy  thud  which  jarred  the 
house,  as  with  a  strange,  wild  laugh,  he  flung  his 
burden  on  the  floor. 

For  a  moment  there  was  not  a  sound,  and  then 
the  awful  silence  and  blackness  were  broken  by  a 
crash  of  thunder  that  seemed  to  tear  the  founda 
tions  asunder  like  a  mighty  earthquake,  and  the 
whole  house,  and  the  great  swamp  outside  were 
filled  with  a  glare  of  vivid,  blinding  light.  Directly 
in  front  of  me,  clutching  in  his  upraised  hand  a 
long,  keen,  glittering  knife,  on  whose  blade  a  ball 
of  fire  seemed  to  play,  stood  a  gigantic  figure  in 
the  very  flame  of  the  lightning,  and  stretched  at 
his  feet  lay,  ghastly  and  bloody,  a  black  and  head 
less  trunk. 

I  staggered  to  the  door  and,  tripping  over  the 
sill,  fell  prostrate  outside. 

******* 

I  have  never  been  able  to  bring  myself  to  give  a 
description  of  the  manner  in  which  I  escaped  from 
the  fearful  spot. 


"NO  HA  ID  PAWN''  193 

When  we  could  get  there,  nothing  was  left  but 
the  foundation.  The  haunted  house,  when  struck, 
had  literally  burned  to  the  water's  edge.  The 
changed  current  had  washed  its  way  close  to  the 
place,  and  in  strange  verification  of  the  negroes' 
traditions,  No  Haid  Pawn  had  reclaimed  its  own, 
and  the  spot  with  all  its  awful  secrets  lay  buried 
under  its  dark  waters. 


POLLY 


POLLY 

A   Christmas  Recollection 


T  was  Christmas  Eve.  I  remember  it 
just  as  if  it  was  yesterday.  The  Colonel 
had  been  pretending  not  to  notice  it, 
but  when  Drinkwater  Torm*  knocked 
over  both  the  great  candlesticks,  and  in  his  attempt 
to  pick  them  up  lurched  over  himself  and  fell 
sprawling  on  the  floor,  he  yelled  at  him.  Torm 
pulled  himself  together,  and  began  an  explanation, 
in  which  the  point  was  that  he  had  not  "  teched  a 
drap  in  Gord  knows  how  long,"  but  the  Colonel 
cut  him  short. 

"  Get  out  of  the  room,  you  drunken  vagabond!  " 
he  roared. 

Torm  was  deeply  offended.  He  made  a  low, 
grand  bow,  and  with  as  much  dignity  as  his  un 
steady  condition  would  admit,  marched  very  state- 

*  This  spelling  is  used  because  he  was  called  "Torm" 
until  it  became  his  name. 

197 


j98  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

lily  from  the  room,  and  passing  out  through  the 
dining-room,  where  he  stopped  to  abstract  only 
one  more  drink  from  the  long,  heavy,  cut-glass 
decanter  on  the  sideboard,  meandered  to  his 
house  in  the  back-yard,  where  he  proceeded  to 
talk  religion  to  Charity,  his  wife,  as  he  always  did 
when  he  was  particularly  drunk.  He  was  ex 
pounding  the  vision  of  the  golden  candlestick,  and 
the  bowl  and  seven  lamps  and  two  olive-trees, 
when  he  fell  asleep. 

The  roarer,  as  has  been  said,  was  the  Colonel ; 
the  meanderer  was  Drinkwater  Torm.  The  Colo 
nel  gave  him  the  name,  "  because,"  he  said,  "  if 
he  were  to  drink  water  once  he  would  die." 

As  Drinkwater  closed  the  door,  the  Colonel 
continued,  fiercely : 

"  Damme,  Polly,  I  will !  I'll  sell  him  to-mor 
row  morning;  and  if  I  can't  sell  him  I'll  give  him 
away." 

Polly,  with  troubled  great  dark  eyes,  was  wheed 
ling  him  vigorously. 

"  No  ;  I  tell  you,  I'll  sell  him.—'  Misery  in  his 
back ! '  the  mischief !  he's  a  drunken,  trifling, 
good-for-nothing  nigger !  and  I  have  sworn  to  sell 
him  a  thousand  —  yes,  ten  thousand  times;  and 
now  I'll  have  to  do  it  to  keep  my  word." 

This  was  true.  The  Colonel  swore  this  a  dozen 
times  a  day  —  every  time  Torm  got  drunk,  and  as 
that  had  occurred  very  frequently  for  many  years 
before  Polly  was  born,  he  was  not  outside  of  the 
limit.  Polly,  however,  was  the  only  one  this 


POLL  Y  199 

threat  ever  troubled.  The  Colonel  knew  he 
could  no  more  have  gotten  on  without  Torm  than 
his  old  open-faced  watch,  which  looked  for  all  the 
world  like  a  model  of  himself,  could  have  run 
without  the  mainspring.  From  tying  his  shoes 
and  getting  his  shaving-water  to  making  his  juleps 
and  lighting  his  candles,  which  was  all  he  had  to 
do,  Drinkwater  Torm  was  necessary  to  him.  (I 
think  he  used  to  make  the  threat  just  to  prove  to 
himself  that  Torm  did  not  own  him ;  if  so,  he 
failed  in  his  purpose  —  Torm  did  own  him. )  Torm 
knew  it  as  well  as  he,  or  better  ;  and  while  Char 
ity,  for  private  and  wifely  reasons,  occasionally 
held  the  threat  over  him  when  his  expoundings 
passed  even  her  endurance,  she  knew  it  also. 

Thus,  Polly  was  the  only  one  it  deceived  or 
frightened.  It  always  deceived  her,  and  she  never 
rested  until  she  had  obtained  Term's  reprieve  "  for 
just  one  more  time."  So  on  this  occasion,  before 
she  got  down  from  the  Colonel's  knees,  she  had 
given  him  in  bargain  "just  one  more  squeeze," 
and  received  in  return  Term's  conditional  pardon, 
"  only  till  next  time." 

Everybody  in  the  county  knew  the  Colonel,  and 
everybody  knew  Drinkwater  Torm,  and  everybody 
who  had  been  to  the  Colonel's  for  several  years 
past  (and  that  was  nearly  everybody  in  the  county, 
for  the  Colonel  kept  open  house)  knew  Polly. 
She  had  been  placed  in  her  chair  by  the  Colonel's 
side  at  the  club  dinner  on  her  first  birthday  after 
her  arrival,  and  had  been  afterward  placed  on  the 


200  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

table  and  allowed  to  crawl  around  among  and  in 
the  dishes  to  entertain  the  gentlemen,  which  she 
did  to  the  applause  of  every  one,  and  of  herself 
most  of  all ;  and  from  that  time  she  had  exercised 
in  her  kingdom  the  functions  of  both  Vashti  and 
Esther,  and  whatever  Polly  ordered  was  done. 
If  the  old  inlaid  piano  in  the  parlor  had  been 
robbed  of  strings,  it  was  all  right,  for  Polly  had 
taken  them.  Bob  had  cut  them  out  for  her,  with 
out  a  word  of  protest  from  any  one  but  Charity. 
The  Colonel  would  have  given  her  his  heart 
strings  if  Polly  had  required  them. 

She  had  owned  him  body  and  soul  from  the 
second  he  first  laid  eyes  on  her,  when,  on  the  in- 
stant  he  entered  the  room,  she  had  stretched  out 
her  little  chubby  hands  to  him,  and  on  his  taking 
her  had,  after  a  few  infantile  caresses,  curled  up 
and,  with  her  finger  in  her  mouth,  gone  to  sleep 
in  his  arms  like  a  little  white  kitten. 

Bob  used  to  wonder  in  a  vague,  boyish  way 
where  the  child  got  her  beauty,  for  the  Colonel 
weighed  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  and  was 
as  ugly  as  a  red  head  and  thirty  or  forty  years  of  . 
Torm's  mint-juleps  piled  on  a  somewhat  reckless 
college  career  could  make  him ;  but  one  day,  when 
the  Colonel  was  away  from  home,  Charity  showed 
him  a  daguerreotype  of  a  lady,  which  she  got  out 
of  the  top  drawer  of  the  Colonel's  big  secretary 
with  the  brass  lions  on  it,  and  it  looked  exactly 
like  Polly.  It  had  the  same  great  big  dark  eyes 
and  the  same  soft  white  look,  though  Polly  was 


POLL  Y  201 

stouter ;  for  she  was  a  great  tomboy,  and  used  to 
run  wild  over  the  place  with  Bob,  climbing  cherry- 
trees,  fishing  in  the  creek,  and  looking  as  bloom 
ing  as  a  rose,  with  her  hair  all  tangled  over  her 
pretty  head,  until  she  grew  quite  large,  and  the 
Colonel  got  her  a  tutor.  He  thought  of  sending 
her  to  a  boarding-school,  but  the  night  he  broached 
the  subject  he  raised  such  a  storm,  and  Polly  was 
in  such  a  tempest  of  tears,  that  he  gave  up  the 
matter  at  once.  It  was  well  he  did  so,  for  Polly 
and  Charity  cried  all  night  and  Torm  was  so  over 
come  that  even  next  morning  he  could  not  bring 
the  Colonel  his  shaving-water,  and  he  had  to  shave 
with  cold  water  for  the  first  time  in  twenty  years. 
He  therefore  employed  a  tutor.  Most  people  said 
the  child  ought  to  have  had  a  governess,  and  one 
or  two  single  ladies  of  forgotten  age  in  the  neigh 
borhood  delicately  hinted  that  they  would  gladly 
teach  her ;  but  the  Colonel  swore  that  he  would 
have  no  women  around  him,  and  he  would  be 
eternally  condemned  if  any  should  interfere  with 
Polly ;  so  he  engaged  Mr.  Cranmer,  and  invited 
Bob  to  come  over  and  go  to  school  to  him  also, 
which  he  did  ;  for  his  mother,  who  had  up  to  that 
time  taught  him  herself,  was  very  poor,  and  was 
unable  to  send  him  to  school,  her  husband,  who 
was  the  Colonel's  fourth  cousin,  having  died  largely 
indebted,  and  all  of  his  property,  except  a  small 
farm  adjoining  the  Colonel's,  and  a  few  negroes, 
having  gone  into  the  General  Court. 

Bob  had  always  been  a  great  favorite  with  the 


202  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

Colonel,  and  ever  since  he  was  a  small  boy  he  had 
been  used  to  coming  over  and  staying  with  him. 

He  could  gaff  a  chicken  as  well  as  Drinkwater 
Torm,  which  was  a  great  accomplishment  in  the 
Colonel's  eyes ;  for  he  had  the  best  game-chickens 
in  the  county,  and  used  to  fight  them,  too,  match 
ing  them  against  those  of  one  or  two  of  his  neigh 
bors  who  were  similarly  inclined,  until  Polly  grew 
up  and  made  him  stop.  He  could  tame  a  colt 
quicker  than  anybody  on  the  plantation.  Moreover 
he  could  shoot  more  partridges  in  a  day  than  the 
Colonel,  and  could  beat  him  shooting  with  a  pistol 
as  well,  though  the  Colonel  laid  the  fault  of  the 
former  on  his  being  so  fat,  and  that  of  the  latter 
on  his  spectacles.  They  used  to  practice  with  the 
Colonel's  old  pistols  that  hung  in  their  holsters 
over  the  tester  of  his  bed,  and  about  which  Drink- 
water  used  to  tell  so  many  lies ;  for  although  they 
were  kept  loaded,  and  their  brass-mounted  butts 
peeping  out  of  their  leathern  covers  used  to  look 
ferocious  enough  to  give  some  apparent  ground  for 
Torm's  story  of  how  "he  and  the  Colonel  had 
shot  Judge  Cabell  spang  through  the  heart,"  the 
Colonel  always  said  that  Cabell  behaved  very 
handsomely,  and  that  the  matter  was  arranged  on 
the  field  without  a  shot.  Even  at  that  time  some 
people  said  that  Bob's  mother  was  trying  to  catch 
the  Colonel,  and  that  if  the  Colonel  did  not  look 
out  she  would  yet  be  the  mistress  of  his  big  plan 
tation.  And  all  agreed  that  the  boy  would  come 
in  for  something  handsome  at  the  Colonel's  death ; 


POLL  Y 


203 


for  Bob  was  his  cousin  and  his  nearest  male  rela 
tive,  if  Polly  was  his  niece,  and  he  would  hardly 
leave  her  all  his  property,  especially  as  she  was 
so  much  like  her  mother,  with  whom,  as  every 
body  knew,  the  Colonel  had  been  desperately  in 
love,  but  who  had  treated  him  badly,  and,  not 
withstanding  his  big  plantation  and  many  negroes, 
had  run  away  with  his  younger  brother,  and  both 
of  them  had  died  in  the  South  of  yellow  fever,  leav 
ing  of  all  their  children  only  this  little  Polly;  and 
the  Colonel  had  taken  Drinkwater  and  Charity, 
and  had  travelled  in  his  carriage  all  the  way  to 
Mississippi,  to  get  and  bring  Polly  back. 

It  was  Christmas  Eve  when  they  reached  home, 
and  the  Colonel  had  sent  Drinkwater  on  a  day 
ahead  to  have  the  fires  made  and  the  house  aired 
for  the  baby ;  and  when  the  carriage  drove  up  that 
night  you  would  have  thought  a  queen  was  coming, 
sure  enough. 

Every  hand  on  the  plantation  was  up  at  the  great 
house  waiting  for  them,  and  every  room  in  the 
house  had  a  fire  in  it.  (Torm  had  told  the  over 
seer  so  many  lies  that  he  had  had  the  men  cutting 
wood  all  day,  although  the  regular  supply  was 
already  cut. )  And  when  Charity  stepped  out  of 
the  carriage,  with  the  baby  all  bundled  up  in  her 
arms,  making  a  great  show  about  keeping  it 
wrapped  up,  and  walked  up  the  steps  as  slowly 
as  if  it  were  made  of  gold,  you  could  have  heard  a 
pin  drop ;  even  the  Colonel  fell  back,  and  spoke 
in  a  whisper.  The  great  chamber  was  given  up 


204  W  OLE    VIRGINIA 

to  the  baby,  the  Colonel  going  to  the  wing  room, 
where  he  always  stayed  after  that.  He  spoke  of 
sitting  up  all  night  to  watch  the  child,  but  Charity 
assured  him  that  she  was  not  going  to  take  her 
eyes  off  of  her  during  the  night,  and  with  a  promise 
to  come  in  every  hour  and  look  after  them,  the 
Colonel  went  to  his  room,  where  he  snored  until 
nine  o'clock  the  next  morning. 

But  I  was  telling  what  people  said  about  Bob's 
mother. 

When  the  report  reached  the  Colonel  about  the 
widow's  designs,  he  took  Polly  on  his  knees  and 
told  her  all  about  it,  and  then  both  laughed  until 
the  tears  ran  down  the  Colonel's  face  and  dropped 
on  his  big  flowered  vest  and  on  Polly's  little  blue 
frock;  and  he  sent  the  widow  next  day  a  fine 
short-horned  heifer  to  show  his  contempt  of  the 
gossip. 

And  now  Bob  was  the  better  shot  of  the  two ; 
and  they  taught  Polly  to  shoot  also,  and  to  load 
and  unload  the  pistols,  at  which  the  Colonel  was 
as  proud  as  if  one  of  his  young  stags  had  whipped 
an  old  rooster. 

But  they  never  could  induce  her  to  shoot  at 
anything  except  a  mark.  She  was  the  tenderest- 
hearted  little  thing  in  the  world. 

If  her  taste  had  been  consulted  she  would  have 
selected  a  crossbow,  for  it  did  not  make  such  a 
noise,  and  she  could  shoot  it  without  shutting  her 
eyes ;  besides  that,  she  could  shoot  it  in  the  house, 
which,  indeed,  she  did,  until  she  had  shot  the  eyes 


POLLY  205 

out  of  nearly  all  the  bewigged  gentlemen  and  bare 
necked,  long-fingered  ladies  on  the  walls.  Once 
she  came  very  near  shooting  Term's  eye  out  also  ; 
but  this  was  an  accident,  though  Drinkwater  de 
clared  it  was  not,  and  tried  to  make  out  that  Bob 
had  put  her  up  to  it.  "  Dat's  de  mischievouses' 
boy  Gord  uver  made,"  he  said,  complainingly,  to 
Charity.  Fortunately,  his  eye  got  well,  and  it 
gave  him  an  excuse  for  staying  half  drunk  for 
nearly  a  week ;  and  afterward,  like  a  dog  that  has 
once  been  lame  in  his  hind-leg,  whenever  he  saw 
Polly,  and  did  not  forget  it,  he  squinted  up  that 
eye  and  tried  to  look  miserable.  Polly  was  quite 
a  large  girl  then,  and  was  carrying  the  keys  (ex 
cept  when  she  lost  them),  though  she  could  not 
have  been  more  than  twelve  years  old ;  for  it  was 
just  after  this  that  the  birthday  came  when  the 
Colonel  gave  her  her  first  real  silk  dress.  It  was 
blue  silk,  and  came  from  Richmond,  and  it  was 
hard  to  tell  which  was  the  proudest,  Polly,  or 
Charity,  or  Drinkwater,  or  the  Colonel.  Torm  got 
drunk  before  the  dinner  was  over,  "drinking  de 
healthsh  to  de  young  mistis  in  de  sky-blue  robes 
what  stands  befo'  de  throne,  you  know,"  he  ex 
plained  to  Charity,  after  the  Colonel  had  ordered 
him  from  the  dining-room,  with  promises  of 
prompt  sale  on  the  morrow. 

Bob  was  there,  and  it  was  the  last  time  Polly 
ever  sucked  her  thumb.  She  had  almost  gotten 
out  of  the  habit  anyhow,  and  it  was  in  a  moment 
of  forgetfulness  that  she  let  Bob  see  her  do  it.  He 


206  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

was  a  great  tease,  and  when  she  was  smaller  had 
often  worried  her  about  it  until  she  would  fly  at 
him  and  try  to  bite  him  with  her  little  white  teeth. 
On  this  occasion,  however,  she  stood  everything 
until  he  said  that  about  a  girl  who  wore  a  blue  silk 
dress  sucking  her  thumb ;  then  she  boxed  his  jaws. 
The  fire  flew  from  his  eyes,  but  hers  were  even 
more  sparkling.  He  paused  for  a  minute,  and  then 
caught  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her  violently. 
She  never  sucked  her  thumb  after  that. 

This  happened  out  in  front  of  her  mammy's 
house,  within  which  Torm  was  delivering  a  pow 
erful  exhortation  on  temperance;  and,  strange  to 
say,  Charity  took  Bob's  side,  while  Torm  espoused 
Polly's,  and  afterward  said  she  ought  to  have 
"  tooken  a  stick  and  knocked  Marse  Bob's  head 
spang  off. "  This,  fortunately,  Polly  did  not  do  (and 
when  Bob  went  to  the  university  afterward  he  was 
said  to  have  the  best  head  in  his  class).  She  just 
turned  around  and  ran  into  the  house,  with  her  face 
very  red.  But  she  never  slapped  Bob  after  that.  Not 
long  after  this  he  went  off  to  college ;  for  Mr.  Cran- 
mer,  the  tutor,  said  he  already  knew  more  than  most 
college  graduates  did,  and  that  it  would  be  a  shame 
for  him  not  to  have  a  university  education.  When 
the  question  of  ways  and  means  was  mooted,  the 
Colonel,  who  was  always  ready  to  lend  money  if 
he  had  it,  and  to  borrow  it  if  he  did  not,  swore  he 
would  give  him  all  the  money  he  wanted ;  but,  to 
his  astonishment,  Bob  refused  to  accept  it,  and 
although  the  Colonel  abused  him  for  it,  and  asked 


POLL  Y  207 

Polly  if  she  did  not  think  he  was  a  fool  (which 
Polly  did,  for  she  was  always  ready  to  take  and 
spend  all  the  money  he  or  any  one  else  gave  her), 
yet  he  did  not  like  him  the  less  for  it,  and  he  fin 
ally  persuaded  Bob  to  take  it  as  a  loan,  and  Bob 
gave  him  his  bond. 

The  day  before  he  left  home  he  was  over  at  the 
Colonel's,  where  they  had  a  great  dinner  for  him, 
and  Polly  presided  in  her  newest  silk  dress  (she 
had  three  then) ;  and  when  Bob  said  good-by  she 
slipped  something  into  his  hand,  and  ran  away  to 
her  room,  and  when  he  looked  at  it,  it  was  her 
ten-dollar  gold  piece,  and  he  took  it. 

He  was  at  college  not  quite  three  years,  for  his 
mother  was  taken  sick,  and  he  had  to  come  home 
and  nurse  her ;  but  he  had  stood  first  in  most  of 
his  classes,  and  not  lower  than  third  in  any;  and 
he  had  thrashed  the  carpenter  on  Vinegar  Hill, 
who  was  the  bully  of  the  town.  So  that  although 
he  did  not  take  his  degree,  he  had  gotten  the  start 
which  enabled  him  to  complete  his  studies  during 
the  time  he  was  taking  care  of  his  mother,  which 
he  did  until  her  death,  so  that  as  soon  as  he  was 
admitted  to  the  bar  he  made  his  mark.  It  was  his 
splendid  defence  of  the  man  who  shot  the  deputy- 
sheriff  at  the  court-house  on  election  day  that 
brought  him  out  as  the  Democratic  candidate  for 
the  Constitutional  Convention,  where  he  made 
such  a  reputation  as  a  speaker  that  the  Enquirer 
declared  him  the  rising  man  of  the  State;  and 
even  the  Whig  admitted  that  perhaps  the  Loco- 


aoS  AV  OLE    VIRGINIA 

foco  party  might  find  a  leader  to  redeem  it.  Polly 
was  just  fifteen  when  she  began  to  take  an  interest 
in  politics  ;  and  although  she  read  the  papers  dili 
gently,  especially  the  Enquirer,  which  her  uncle 
never  failed  to  abuse,  yet  she  never  could  exactly 
satisfy  herself  which  side  was  right ;  for  the  Colo 
nel  was  a  stanch  Whig,  while  most  people  must 
have  been  Democrats,  as  Bob  was  elected  by  a 
big  majority.  She  wanted  to  be  on  the  Colonel's 
side,  and  made  him  explain  everything  to  her,  which 
he  did  to  his  own  entire  satisfaction,  and  to  hers 
too,  she  tried  to  think ;  but  when  Bob  came  over 
to  tea,  which  he  very  frequently  did,  and  the  Colo 
nel  and  he  got  into  a  discussion,  her  uncle  always 
seemed  to  her  to  get  the  worst  of  the  argument ; 
at  any  rate,  he  generally  got  very  hot.  This,  how 
ever,  might  have  been  because  Bob  was  so  cool, 
while  the  Colonel  was  so  hot-tempered. 

Bob  had  grown  up  very  handsome.  His  mouth 
was  strong  and  firm,  and  his  eyes  were  splendid. 
He  was  about  six  feet,  and  his  shoulders  were  as 
broad  as  the  Colonel's.  She  did  not  see  him  nov 
as  often  as  she  did  when  he  was  a  boy,  but  it  was 
because  he  was  kept  so  busy  by  his  practice.  (He 
used  to  get  cases  in  three  or  four  counties  now, 
and  big  ones  at  that.)  She  knew,  however,  that 
she  was  just  as  good  a  friend  of  his  as  ever;  in 
deed,  she  took  the  trouble  to  tell  herself  so.  A 
compliment  to  him  used  to  give  her  the  greatest 
happiness,  and  would  bring  deeper  roses  into  her 
cheeks.  He  was  the  greatest  favorite  with  every- 


POLLY  209 

body.  Torm  thought  that  there  was  no  one  in  the 
world  like  him.  He  had  long  ago  forgiven  him 
his  many  pranks,  and  said  '*  he  was  the  grettest 
gent'man  in  the  county  skusin  him  [Torm]  and 
the  Colonel,"  and  that  "he  al'ays  handled  heself 
to  he  raisin',"  by  which  Torm  made  indirect  ref 
erence  to  regular  donations  made  to  him  by  the 
aforesaid  "  gent'man,"  and  particularly  to  an 
especially  large  benefaction  then  lately  conferred. 
It  happened  one  evening  at  the  Colonel's,  after 
dinner,  when  several  guests,  including  Bob,  were 
commenting  on  the  perfections  of  various  ladies 
who  were  visiting  in  the  neighborhood  that  sum 
mer.  The  praises  were,  to  Term's  mind,  some 
what  too  liberally  bestowed,  and  he  had  attempted 
to  console  himself  by  several  visits  to  the  pantry ; 
but  when  all  the  list  was  disposed  of,  and  Polly's 
name  had  not  been  mentioned,  endurance  could 
stand  it  no  longer,  and  he  suddenly  broke  in  with 
his  judgment  that  they  "didn't  none  on  'em  hoi' 
a  candle  to  his  young  mistis,  whar  wuz  de  ve'y 
pink  an'  flow'r  on  'em  all." 

The  Colonel,  immensely  pleased,  ordered  him 
out,  with  a  promise  of  immediate  sale  on  the  mor 
row.  But  that  evening,  as  he  got  on  his  horse, 
Bob  slipped  into  his  hand  a  five-dollar  gold  piece, 
and  he  told  Polly  that  if  the  Colonel  really  in 
tended  to  sell  Torm,  just  to  send  him  over  to  his 
house;  he  wanted  the  benefit  of  his  judgment. 

Polly,  of  course,  did  not  understand  his  allu 
sion,  though  the  Colonel  had  told  her  of  Torm's 


210  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

speech ;  but  Bob  had  a  rose  on  his  coat  when  he 
came  out  of  the  window,  and  the  long  pin  in  Polly's 
bodice  was  not  fastened  very  securely,  for  it 
slipped,  and  she  lost  all  her  other  roses,  and  he 
had  to  stoop  and  pick  them  up  for  her.  Perhaps, 
though,  Bob  was  simply  referring  to  his  having 
saved  some  money,  for  shortly  afterward  he  came 
over  one  morning,  and,  to  the  Colonel's  disgust, 
paid  him  down  in  full  the  amount  of  his  bond.  He 
attempted  a  somewhat  formal  speech  of  thanks, 
but  broke  down  in  it  so  lamentably  that  two  juleps 
were  ordered  out  by  the  Colonel  to  reinstate  easy 
relations  between  them — an  effect  which  appar 
ently  was  not  immediately  produced  —  and  the 
Colonel  confided  to  Polly  next  day  that  since  the 
fellow  had  been  taken  up  so  by  those  Loco-focos 
he  was  not  altogether  as  he  used  to  be. 

"  Why,  he  don't  even  drink  his  juleps  clear," 
the  old  man  asserted,  as  if  he  were  charging  him 
with,  at  the  least,  misprision  of  treason.  "  How 
ever,"  he  added,  softening  as  the  excuse  presented 
itself  to  his  mind,  "  that  may  be  because  his 
mother  was  always  so  opposed  to  it.  You  know 
mint  never  would  grow  there,"  he  pursued  to 
Polly,  who  had  heard  him  make  the  same  observa 
tion,  with  the  same  astonishment,  a  hundred  times. 
"  Strangest  thing  I  ever  knew.  But  he's  a  con 
foundedly  clever  fellow,  though,  Polly,"  he  con 
tinued,  with  a  sudden  reviving  of  the  old-time 
affection.  "  Damme !  I  like  him."  And,  as 
Polly's  face  turned  a  sweet  carmine,  added :  "  Oh, 


POLLY  211 

I  forgot,  Polly ;  didn't  mean  to  swear ;  damme  ! 
if  I  did.  It  just  slipped  out.  Now  I  haven't 
sworn  before  for  a  week ;  you  know  I  haven't ; 
yes,  of  course,  I  mean  except  then"  For  Polly, 
with  softly  fading  color,  was  reading  him  the  se 
verest  of  lectures  on  his  besetting  sin,  and  citing 
an  ebullition  over  Term's  failing  of  the  day  be 
fore.  "  Come  and  sit  down  on  your  uncle's  knee 
and  kiss  him  once  as  a  token  of  forgiveness.  Just 
one  more  squeeze,"  as  the  fair  girlish  arms  were 
twined  about  his  neck,  and  the  sweetest  of  faces 
was  pressed  against  his  own  rough  cheek.  "  Polly, 
do  you  remember,"  asked  the  old  man,  holding 
her  off  from  him  and  gazing  at  the  girlish  face 
fondly  —  "  do  you  remember  how,  when  you  were 
a  little  scrap,  you  used  to  climb  up  on  my  knee 
and  squeeze  me,  'just  once  more,'  to  save  that 
rascal  Drinkwater,  and  how  you  used  to  say  you 
were  '  going  to  marry  Bob '  and  me  when  you 
were  grown  up?" 

Polly's  memory,  apparently,  was  not  very  good. 
That  evening,  however,  it  seemed  much  better, 
when,  dressed  all  in  soft  white,  and  with  cheeks 
reflecting  the  faint  tints  of  the  sunset  clouds,  she 
was  strolling  through  the  old  flower-garden  with 
a  tall  young  fellow  whose  hat  sat  on  his  head  with 
a  jaunty  air,  and  who  was  so  very  careful  to  hold 
aside  the  long  branches  of  the  rose-bushes.  They 
had  somehow  gotten  to  recalling  each  in  turn 
some  incident  of  the  old  boy-and-girl  days.  Bob 
knew  the  main  facts  as  well  as  she,  but  Polly  re- 


2i2  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

membered  the  little  details  and  circumstances  of 
each  incident  best,  except  those  about  the  time 
they  were  playing  "  knucks  "  together.  Then, 
singularly,  Bob  recollected  most.  He  was  posi 
tive  that  when  she  cried  because  he  shot  so  hard, 
he  had  kissed  her  to  make  it  well.  Curiously, 
Polly's  recollection  failed  again,  and  was  only  dis 
tinct  about  very  modern  matters.  She  remem 
bered  with  remarkable  suddenness  that  it  was 
tea-time. 

They  were  away  down  at  the  end  of  the  garden, 
and  her  lapse  of  memory  had  a  singular  effect  on 
Bob ;  for  he  turned  quite  pale,  and  insisted  that 
she  did  remember  it;  and  then  said  something 
about  having  wanted  to  see  the  Colonel,  and  hav 
ing  waited,  and  did  so  strangely  that  if  that  rose 
bush  had  not  caught  her  dress,  he  might  have 
done  something  else.  But  the  rose-bush  caught 
her  dress,  and  Polly,  who  looked  really  scared  at 
it  or  at  something,  ran  away  just  as  the  Colonel's 
voice  was  heard  calling  them  to  tea. 

Bob  was  very  silent  at  the  table,  and  when  he 
left,  the  Colonel  was  quite  anxious  about  him.  He 
asked  Polly  if  she  had  not  noticed  his  depression. 
Polly  had  not. 

"That's  just  the  way  with  you  women,"  said 
the  Colonel,  testily.  "A  man  might  die  under 
your  very  eyes,  and  you  would  not  notice  it.  / 
noticed  it,  and  I  tell  you  the  fellow's  sick.  I  say 
he's  sick  !  "  he  reiterated,  with  a  little  habit  he  had 
acquired  since  he  had  begun  to  grow  slightly  deaf. 


POLLY 


213 


"  I  shall  advise  him  to  go  away  and  have  a  little 
fling  somewhere.  He  works  too  hard,  sticks  too 
close  at  home.  He  never  goes  anywhere  except 
here,  and  he  don't  come  here  as  he  used  to  do. 
He  ought  to  get  married.  Advise  him  to  get 
married.  Why  don't  he  set  up  to  Sally  Brent  or 
Malviny  Pegram  ?  He's  a  likely  fellow,  and  they'd 
both  take  him  —  fools  if  they  didn't; — I  say  they 
are  fools  if  they  didn't.  What  say  ?  " 

"I  didn't  say  anything,"  said  Polly,  quietly 
going  to  the  piano. 

Her  music  often  soothed  the  Colonel  to  sleep. 

The  next  morning  but  one  Bob  rode  over,  and 
instead  of  hooking  his  horse  to  the  fence  as  he 
usually  did,  he  rode  on  around  toward  the  stables. 
He  greeted  Torm,  who  was  in  the  backyard,  and 
after  extracting  some  preliminary  observations 
from  him  respecting  the  "  misery  in  his  back," 
he  elicited  the  further  facts  that  Miss  Polly  was 
going  down  the  road  to  dine  at  the  Pegrams',  of 
which  he  had  some  intimation  before,  and  that  the 
Colonel  was  down  on  the  river  farm,  but  would  be 
back  about  two  o'clock.  He  rode  on. 

At  two  o'clock  promptly  Bob  returned.  The 
Colonel  had  not  yet  gotten  home.  He,  however, 
dismounted,  and,  tying  his  horse,  went  in.  He 
must  have  been  tired  of  sitting  down,  for  he  now 
walked  up  and  down  the  portico  without  once  tak 
ing  a  seat. 

"  Marse  Bob  '11  walk  heself  to  death,"  observed 
Charity  to  Torm,  from  her  door. 


214  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

Presently  the  Colonel  came  in,  bluff,  warm,  and 
hearty.  He  ordered  dinner  from  the  front  gate 
as  he  dismounted,  and  juleps  from  the  middle  of 
the  walk,  greeted  Bob  with  a  cheeriness  which 
that  gentleman  in  vain  tried  to  imitate,  and  was 
plumped  down  in  his  great  split-bottomed  chair, 
wiping  his  red  head  with  his  still  redder  bandana 
handkerchief,  and  abusing  the  weather,  the  crops, 
the  newspapers,  and  his  overseer  before  Bob  could 
get  breath  to  make  a  single  remark.  When  he 
did,  he  pitched  in  on  the  weather. 

That  is  a  safe  topic  at  all  times.  It  was  aston 
ishing  how  much  comfort  Bob  got  out  of-  it  this 
afternoon.  He  talked  about  it  until  dinner  began 
to  come  in  across  the  yard,  the  blue  china  dishes 
gleaming  in  the  hands  of  Phoebe  and  her  numerous 
corps  of  ebon  and  mahogany  assistants,  and  Torm 
brought  out  the  juleps,  with  the  mint  looking  as 
if  it  were  growing  in  the  great  silver  cans,  with 
frosted  work  all  over  the  sides. 

Dinner  was  rather  a  failure,  so  far  as  Bob  was 
concerned.  Perhaps  he  missed  something  that 
usually  graced  the  table ;  perhaps  only  his  body 
was  there,  while  he  himself  was  down  at  Miss 
Malviny  Pegram's ;  perhaps  he  had  gone  back  and 
was  unfastening  an  impertinent  rose-bush  from  a 
filmy  white  dress  in  the  summer  twilight ;  per 
haps — ;  but  anyhow  he  was  so  silent  and  ab 
stracted  that  the  Colonel  rallied  him  good-hu- 
moredly,  which  did  not  help  matters. 


POLLY  215 

They  had  adjourned  to  the  porch,  and  had  been 
there  for  some  time,  when  Bob  broached  the  sub 
ject  of  his  visit. 

"  Colonel,"  he  said,  suddenly,  and  wholly  irrele 
vant  to  everything  that  had  gone  before, "  there  is 
a  matter  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  —  a — ah  — 
we — a  little  matter  of  great  importance  to  —  ah  — 
myself."  He  was  getting  very  red  and  confused, 
and  the  Colonel  instantly  divining  the  matter,  and 
secretly  flattering  himself,  and  determining  to  crow 
over  Polly,  said,  to  help  him  out : 

"  Aha,  you  rogue,  I  knew  it.  Come  up  to  the 
scratch,  sir.  So  you  are  caught  at  last.  Ah,  you 
sly  fox !  It's  the  very  thing  you  ought  to  do. 
Why,  I  know  half  a  dozen  girls  who'd  jump  at 
you.  I  knew  it.  I  said  so  the  other  night. 
Polly—" 

Bob  was  utterly  off  his  feet  by  this  time.  "  I 
want  to  ask  your  consent  to  marry  Polly,"  he 
blurted  out  desperately;  "I  love  her." 

"  The  devil  you  do  !  "  exclaimed  the  Colonel. 
He  could  say  no  more;  he  simply  sat  still,  in 
speechless,  helpless,  blank  amazement.  To  him 
Polly  was  still  a  little  girl  climbing  his  knees,  and 
an  emperor  might  not  aspire  to  her. 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  do,"  said  Bob,  calm  enough  now  — 
growing  cool  as  the  Colonel  became  excited.  "  I 
love  her,  and  I  want  her." 

"  Well,  sir,  you  can't  have  her  !  "  roared  the 
Colonel,  pulling  himself  up  from  his  seat  in  the 


216  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

violence  of  his  refusal.  He  looked  like  a  tawny 
lion  whose  lair  had  been  invaded. 

Bob's  face  paled,  and  a  look  came  on  it  that  the 
Colonel  recalled  afterward,  and  which  he  did  not 
remember  ever  to  have  seen  on  it  before,  except 
once,  when,  years  ago,  some  one  shot  one  of  his 
dogs  —  a  look  made  up  of  anger  and  of  dogged 
resolution.  "  I  will !  "  he  said,  throwing  up  his 
head  and  looking  the  Colonel  straight  in  the  eyes, 
his  voice  perfectly  calm,  but  his  eyes  blazing,  the 
mouth  drawn  close,  and  the  lines  of  his  face  as  if 
they  had  been  carved  in  granite. 

«  I'll  be if  you  shall !  "  stormed  the  Colo 
nel  :  "  the  King  of  England  should  not  have  her !  " 
and,  turning,  he  stamped  into  the  house  and 
slammed  the  door  behind  him. 

Bob  walked  slowly  down  the  steps  and  around 
to  the  stables,  where  he  ordered  his  horse.  He 
rode  home  across  the  fields  without  a  word,  ex 
cept,  as  he  jumped  his  horse  over  the  line  fence, 
"  I  will  have  her,"  he  repeated,  between  his  fast- 
set  teeth. 

That  evening  Polly  came  home  all  unsuspecting 
anything  of  the  kind;  the  Colonel  waited  until 
she  had  taken  off  her  things  and  come  down  in  her 
fresh  muslin  dress.  She  surpassed  in  loveliness 
the  rose-buds  that  lay  on  her  bosom,  and  the  im 
pertinence  that  could  dare  aspire  to  her  broke 
over  the  old  man  in  a  fresh  wave.  He  had  nursed 
his  wrath  all  the  evening. 

."  Polly  !  "  he  blurted  out,  suddenly  rising  with 


POLLY  217 

a  jerk  from  his  arm-chair,  and  unconsciously  strik 
ing  an  attitude  before  the  astonished  girl,  "  do  you 
want  to  marry  Bob?  " 

"  Why,  no,"  cried  Polly,  utterly  shaken  out  of 
her  composure  by  the  suddenness  and  vehemence 
of  the  attack. 

"  I  knew  it!"  declared  the  Colonel,  triumph 
antly.  "  It  was  a  piece  of  cursed  impertinence !  " 
and  he  worked  himself  up  to  such  a  pitch  of  fury, 
and  grew  so  red  in  the  face,  that  poor  Polly,  who 
had  to  steer  between  two  dangers,  was  compelled 
to  employ  all  her  arts  to  soothe  the  old  man  and 
keep  him  out  of  a  fit  of  apoplexy.  She  learned 
the  truth,  however,  and  she  learned  something 
which,  until  that  time,  she  had  never  known ;  and 
though,  as  she  kissed  her  uncle  "  good-night,"  she 
made  no  answer  to  his  final  shot  of,  "Well,  I'm 
glad  we  are  not  going  to  have  any  nonsense  about 
the  fellow ;  I  have  made  up  my  mind,  and  we'll 
treat  his  impudence  as  it  deserves,"  she  locked 
her  door  carefully  when  she  was  within  her  own 
room,  and  the  next  morning  she  said  she  had  a 
headache. 

Bob  did  not  come  that  day. 

If  the  Colonel  had  not  been  so  hot-headed  —  that 
is,  if  he  had  not  been  a  man  —  things  would  doubt 
less  have  straightened  themselves  out  in  some  of 
those  mysterious  ways  in  which  the  hardest  knots 
into  which  two  young  peoples'  affairs  contrive  to 
get  untangle  themselves ;  but  being  a  man,  he 
must  needs,  man-like,  undertake  to  manage  accord- 


2i 8  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

ing  to  his  own  plan,  which  is  always  the  wrong 
one. 

When,  therefore,  he  announced  to  Polly  at  the 
breakfast-table  that  morning  that  she  would  have 
no  further  annoyance  from  that  fellow's  imperti 
nence;  for  he  had  written  him  a  note  apologizing 
for  leaving  him  abruptly  in  his  own  house  the  day 
before,  but  forbidding  him,  in  both  their  names,  to 
continue  his  addresses,  or,  indeed,  to  put  his  foot 
on  the  place  again;  he  fully  expected  to  see  Polly's 
face  brighten,  and  to  receive  her  approbation  and 
thanks.  What,  then,  was  his  disappointment  to 
see  her  face  grow  distinctly  white.  All  she  said 
was,  "  Oh,  uncle  !  " 

It  was  unfortunate  that  the  day  was  Sunday, 
and  that  the  Colonel  went  with  her  to  church 
(which  she  insisted  on  attending,  notwithstanding 
her  headache),  and  was  by  when  she  met  Bob. 
They  came  on  each  other  suddenly.  Bob  took  off 
his  hat  and  stood  like  a  soldier  on  review,  erect, 
expectant,  and  a  little  pale.  The  Colonel,  who 
had  almost  forgotten  his  "  impertinence,"  and  was 
about  to  shake  hands  with  him  as  usual,  suddenly 
remembered  it,  and  drawing  himself  up,  stepped 
to  the  other  side  of  Polly,  and  handed  her  by  the 
younger  gentleman  as  if  he  were  protecting  her 
from  a  mob.  Polly,  who  had  been  looking  anx 
iously  everywhere  but  in  the  right  place,  meaning 
to  give  Bob  a  smile  which  would  set  things  straight, 
caught  his  eye  only  at  that  second,  and  felt  rather 
than  saw  the  change  in  his  attitude  and  manner. 


POLLY  219 

She  tried  to  throw  him  the  smile,  but  it  died  in  her 
eyes,  and  even  after  her  back  was  turned  she  was 
sensible  of  his  defiance.  She  went  into  church, 
and  dropped  down  on  her  knees  in  the  far  end  of 
her  pew,  with  her  little  heart  needing  all  the  con 
solations  of  her  religion. 

The  man  she  prayed  hardest  for  did  not  come 
into  church  that  day. 

Things  went  very  badly  after  that,  and  the 
knots  got  tighter  and  tighter.  An  attempt  which 
Bob  made  to  loosen  them  failed  disastrously,  and 
the  Colonel,  who  was  the  best-hearted  man  in  the 
world,  but  whose  prejudices  were  made  of  wrought 
iron,  took  it  into  his  head  that  Bob  had  insulted 
him,  and  Polly's  indirect  efforts  at  pacification 
aroused  him  to  such  an  extent  that  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life  he  was  almost  hard  with  her.  He 
conceived  the  absurd  idea  that  she  was  sacrificing 
herself  for  Bob  on  account  of  her  friendship  for 
him,  and  that  it  was  his  duty  to  protect  her  against 
herself,  which,  man-like,  he  proceeded  to  do  in 
his  own  fashion,  to  poor  Polly's  great  distress. 

She  was  devoted  to  her  uncle,  and  knew  the 
strength  of  his  affection  for  her.  On  the  other 
hand,  Bob  and  she  had  been  friends  so  long.  She 
never  could  remember  the  time  when  she  did  not 
have  Bob.  But  he  had  never  said  a  word  of  love  to 
her  in  his  life.  To  be  sure,  on  that  evening  in  the 
garden  she  had  known  it  just  as  well  as  if  he  had 
fallen  on  his  knees  at  her  feet.  She  knew  his  si 
lence  was  just  because  he  had  owed  her  uncle  the 


220  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

money ;  and  oh  !  if  she  just  hadn't  gotten  fright 
ened;  and  oh!  if  her  uncle  just  hadn't  done  it;  and 
oh  !  she  was  so  unhappy !  The  poor  little  thing, 
in  her  own  dainty,  white-curtained  room,  where 
were  the  books  and  things  he  had  given  her,  and 
the  letters  he  had  written  her,  used  to  —  but  that 
is  a  secret.  Anyhow,  it  was  not  because  he  was 
gone.  She  knew  that  was  not  the  reason  —  in 
deed,  she  very  often  said  so  to  herself;  it  was  be 
cause  he  had  been  treated  so  unjustly,  and  suffered 
so,  and  she  had  done  it  all.  And  she  used  to  in 
troduce  many  new  petitions  into  her  prayers,  in 
which,  if  there  was  not  any  name  expressed,  she 
felt  that  it  would  be  understood,  and  the  blessings 
would  reach  him  just  the  same. 

The  summer  had  gone,  and  the  Indian  sum 
mer  had  come  in  its  place,  hazy,  dreamy,  and  sad. 
It  always  made  Polly  melancholy,  and  this  year, 
although  the  weather  was  perfect,  she  was  af 
fected,  she  said,  by  the  heat,  and  did  not  go  out 
of  doors  much.  So  presently  her  cheeks  were  not 
as  blooming  as  they  had  been,  and  even  her  great 
dark  eyes  lost  some  of  their  lustre ;  at  least,  Char 
ity  thought  so,  and  said  so  too,  not  only  to  Polly, 
but  to  her  master,  whom  she  scared  half  to  death ; 
and  who,  notwithstanding  that  Dr.  Stopper  was 
coming  over  every  other  day  to  see  a  patient  on 
the  plantation,  and  that  the  next  day  was  the  time 
for  his  regular  visit,  put  a  boy  on  a  horse  that 
night  and  sent  him  with  a  note  urging  him  to 
come  the  next  morning  to  breakfast. 


POLLY  221 

The  doctor  came,  and  spent  the  day  :  examined 
Polly's  lungs  and  heart,  prescribed  out-door  exer 
cise,  and  left  something  less  than  a  bushel-basket 
ful  of  medicines  for  her  to  take. 

Polly  was,  at  the  time  of  his  visit,  in  a  very  ex 
cited  state,  for  the  Colonel  had,  with  a  view  of 
soothing  her,  the  night  before  delivered  a  violent 
philippic  against  marriage  in  general,  and  in  par 
ticular  against  marriage  with  "  impudent  young 
puppies  who  did  not  know  their  places  ;  "  and  he 
had  proposed  an  extensive  tour,  embracing  all  the 
United  States  and  Canada,  and  intended  to  cover 
the  entire  winter  and  spring  following.  Polly, 
who  had  stood  as  much  as  she  could  stand,  finally 
rebelled,  and  had  with  flashing  eyes  and  mantling 
cheeks  espoused  Bob's  cause  with  a  courage  and 
dash  which  had  almost  routed  the  old  Colonel. 
"  Not  that  he  was  anything  to  her  except  a 
friend,"  she  was  most  careful  to  explain;  but  she 
was  tired  of  hearing  her  "friend"  assailed,  and 
she  thought  that  it  was  the  highest  compliment 
a  man  could  pay  a  woman,  etc.,  etc.,  for  all  of 
which  she  did  a  great  deal  of  blushing  in  her 
own  room  afterwards. 

Thus  it  happened,  that  she  was  both  excited  and 
penitent  the  next  day,  and  thinking  to  make  some 
atonement,  and  at  the  same  time  to  take  the  pre 
scribed  exercise,  which  would  excuse  her  from 
taking  the  medicines,  she  filled  a  little  basket  with 
goodies  to  take  old  Aunt  Betty  at  the  Far  Quarters ; 
and  thus  it  happened,  that,  as  she  was  coming  back 


222  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

•along  the  path  which  ran  down  the  meadow  on 
the  other  side  of  the  creek  which  was  the  dividing 
line  between  the  two  plantations,  and  was  almost 
at  the  foot-bridge  that  Somebody  had  made  for 
her  so  carefully  with  logs  cut  out  of  his  own  woods, 
and  the  long  shadows  of  the  willows  made  it 
gloomy,  and  everything  was  so  still  that  she  had 
grown  very  lonely  and  unhappy  —  thus  it  hap 
pened,  that  just  as  she  was  thinking  how  kind  he 
had  been  about  making  the  bridge  and  hand-rail 
so  strong,  and  about  everything,  and  how  cruel  he 
must  think  her,  and  how  she  would  never  see  him 
any  more  as  she  used  to  do,  she  turned  the  clump 
of  willows  to  step  up  on  the  log,  and  there  he  wras 
standing  on  the  bridge  just  before  her,  looking 
down  into  her  eyes  !  She  tried  to  get  by  him  — 
she  remembered  that  afterwards ;  but  he  was  so 
mean.  It  was  always  a  little  confused  in  her 
memory,  and  she  could  never  recall  exactly  how 
it  was.  She  was  sure,  however,  that  it  was  be 
cause  he  was  so  pale  that  she  said  it,  and  that  she 
did  not  begin  to  cry  until  afterwards,  and  that  it 
was  because  he  would  not  listen  to  her  explana 
tion  ;  and  that  she  didn't  let  him  do  it,  she  could 
not  help  it,  and  she  did  not  know  her  head  was 
on  his  shoulder. 

Anyhow,  when  she  got  home  that  evening  her 
improvement  was  so  apparent  that  the  colonel 
called  Charity  in  to  note  it,  and  declared  that  Vir 
ginia  country  doctors  were  the  finest  in  the  world, 


POLLY  223 

and  that  Stopper  was  the  greatest  doctor  in  the 
State.  The  change  was  wonderful,  indeed  ;  and 
the  old  gilt  mirror,  with  its  gauze-covered  frame 
would  never  have  known  for  the  sad-eyed  Polly 
of  the  day  before  the  bright,  happy  maiden  that 
stood  before  it  now  and  smiled  at  the  beaming  face 
which  dimpled  at  its  own  content. 

Old  Betty's  was  a  protracted  pleurisy,  and  the 
good  things  Polly  carried  her  daily  did  not  tend 
to  shorten  the  sickness.  Ever  afterwards  she 
"  blessed  the  Lord  for  dat  chile  "  whenever  Polly's 
name  was  mentioned.  She  would  doubtless  have 
included  Bob  in  her  benison  had  she  known  how 
sympathetic  he  was  during  this  period. 

But  although  he  was  inspecting  that  bridge 
every  afternoon  regularly,  notwithstanding  Polly's 
oft-reiterated  wish  and  express  orders  as  regularly 
declared,  no  one  knew  a  word  of  all  this.  And  it 
was  a  bow  drawn  at  a  venture  when,  on  the  even 
ing  that  Polly  had  tried  to  carry  out  her  engage 
ment  to  bring  her  uncle  around,  the  old  man  had 
said,  "  Why,  hoity-toity  !  the  young  rascal's  cause 
seems  to  be  thriving."  She  had  been  so  confident 
of  her  success  that  she  was  not  prepared  for  fail 
ure,  and  it  struck  her  like  a  fresh  blow;  and 
though  she  did  not  cry  until  she  got  into  her  own 
room,  when  she  got  there  she  threw  herself  on  the 
bed  and  cried  herself  to  sleep.  "  It  was  so  cruel  in 
him,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  to  desire  me  never  to 
speak  to  him  again !  And,  oh !  if  he  should 


224  AV  OLE    VIRGINIA 

really  catch  him  on  the  place  and  shoot  him !  " 
The  pronouns  in  our  language  were  probably  in 
vented  by  young  women. 

The  headache  Polly  had  the  next  morning  was 
not  invented.  Poor  little  thing !  her  last  hope 
was  gone.  She  determined  to  bid  Bob  good-by, 
and  never  see  him  again.  She  had  made  up  her 
mind  to  this  on  her  knees,  so  she  knew  she  was 
right.  The  pain  it  cost  her  satisfied  her  that  she 
was. 

She  was  firmly  resolved  when  she  set  out  that 
afternoon  to  see  old  Betty,  who  was  in  everybody's 
judgment  except  her  own  quite  convalescent,  and 
whom  Dr.  Stopper  pronounced  entirely  well.  She 
wavered  a  little  in  her  resolution  when,  descend 
ing  the  path  along  the  willows,  which  were  leaf 
less  now,  she  caught  sight  of  a  tall  figure  loitering 
easily  up  the  meadow,  and  she  abandoned  —  that 
is,  she  forgot  it  altogether  when,  having  doubt 
fully  suggested  it,  she  was  suddenly  enfolded  in  a 
pair  of  strong  arms,  and  two  gray  eyes,  lighting  a 
handsome  face  strong  with  the  self-confidence 
which  women  love,  looked  down  into  hers. 

Then  he  proposed  it ! 

Her  heart  almost  stood  still  at  his  boldness. 
But  he  was  so  strong,  so  firm,  so  reasonable,  so 
self-reliant,  and  yet  so  gentle,  she  could  not  but 
listen  to  him.  Still  she  refused  —  and  she  never  did 
consent ;  she  forbade  him  ever  to  think  of  it  again. 
Then  she  begged  him  never  to  come  there  again, 
and  told  him  of  her  uncle's  threats,  and  of  her 


POLL  Y  225 

fears  for  him;  and  then,  when  he  laughed  at  them, 
she  begged  him  never,  never,  under  any  circum 
stances,  to  take  any  notice  of  what  her  uncle  might 
do  or  say,  but  rather  to  stand  still  and  be  shot 
dead ;  and  then,  when  Bob  promised  this,  she 
burst  into  tears,  and  he  had  to  hold  her  and  com 
fort  her  like  a  little  girl. 

It  was  pretty  bad  after  that,  and  but  for  Polly's 
out-door  exercise  she  would  undoubtedly  have  suc 
cumbed.  It  seemed  as  if  something  had  come  be 
tween  her  and  her  uncle.  She  no  longer  went 
about  singing  like  a  bird.  She  suffered  under  the 
sense  of  being  misunderstood,  and  it  was  so  lonely ! 
He  too  was  oppressed  by  it.  Even  Torm  shared 
in  it,  and  his  expositions  assumed  a  cast  terrific  in 
the  lasl  degree. 

It  was  now  December. 

One  evening  it  culminated.  The  weather  had 
been  too  bad  for  Polly  to  go  out,  and  she  was  sick. 
Finally  Stopper  was  sent  for.  Polly,  who,  to  use 
Charity's  expression,  was  "  pestered  till  she  was 
fractious,"  rebelled  flatly,  and  refused  to  keep  her 
bed  or  to  take  the  medicines  prescribed.  Charity 
backed  her.  Torm  got  drunk.  The  Colonel  was 
in  a  fume,  and  declared  his  intention  to  sell  Torm 
next  morning,  as  usual,  and  to  take  Charity  and 
Polly  and  go  to  Europe.  This  was  well  enough ; 
but  to  Polly's  consternation,  when  she  came  to 
breakfast  next  morning,  she  found  that  the  old 
man's  plans  had  ripened  into  a  scheme  to  set  out 
on  the  very  next  day  for  Louisiana  and  New  Or- 


226  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

leans,  where  he  proposed  to  spend  the  winter 
looking  after  some  plantations  she  had,  and  show 
ing  her  something  of  the  world.  Polly  remon 
strated,  rebelled,  cajoled.  It  was  all  in  vain. 
Stopper  had  seriously  frightened  the  old  man 
about  her  health,  and  he  was  adamant.  Prepara 
tions  were  set  on  foot ;  the  brown  hair  trunks, 
with  their  lines  of  staring  brass  tacks,  were  raked 
out  and  dusted;  the  Colonel  got  into  a  fever,  or- 
clered  up  all  the  negroes  in  the  yard,  and  gave 
instructions  from  the  front  door,  like  a  major-gen 
eral  reviewing  his  troops;  got  Torni,  Charity,  and 
all  the  others  into  a  wild  flutter  ;  attempted  to  su 
perintend  Polly's  matters;  made  her  promises 
of  fabulous  gifts;  became  reminiscent,  and  told 
marvelous  stories  of  his  old  days,  which  Torm 
corroborated  ;  and  so  excited  Polly  and  the  plan 
tation  generally,  that  from  old  Betty,  who  came 
from  the  Far  Quarters  for  the  purpose  of  taking 
it  in,  down  to  the  blackest  little  dot  on  the  place, 
there  was  not  one  who  did  not  get  into  a  wild  whirl, 
and  talk  as  if  they  were  all  going  to  New  Orleans 
the  next  morning,  with  Joe  Rattler  on  the  boot. 

Polly  had,  after  a  stout  resistance,  surrendered 
to  her  fate,  and  packed  her  modest  trunk  with 
very  mingled  feelings.  Under  other  circum 
stances  she  would  have  enjoyed  the  trip  im 
mensely  ;  but  she  felt  now  as  if  it  were  parting 
from  Bob  forever.  Her  heart  was  in  her  throat 
all  day,  and  even  the  excitement  of  packing  could 
not  drive  away  the  feeling.  She  knew  she  would 


POLL  Y  227 

never  see  him  again.  She  tried  to  work  out  what 
the  end  would  be.  Would  he  die,  or  would  he 
marry  Malviny  Pegram  ?  Every  one  said  she  would 
just  suit  him,  and  she'd  certainly  marry  him  if  he 
asked  her. 

The  sun  was  shining  over  the  western  woods. 
Bob  rode  down  that  way  in  the  afternoon,  even 
when  it  was  raining;  he  had  told  her  so.  He 
would  think  it  cruel  of  her  to  go  away  thus,  and 
never  even  let  him  know.  She  would  at  least  go 
and  tell  him  good-by.  So  she  did. 

Bob's  face  paled  suddenly  when  she  told  him 
all,  and  that  look  which  she  had  not  seen  often 
before  settled  on  it.  Then  he  took  her  hand  and 
began  to  explain  everything  to  her.  He  told  her 
that  he  had  loved  her  all  her  life  ;  showed  her  how 
she  had  inspired  him  to  work  for  and  win  every 
success  that  he  had  achieved ;  how  it  had  been  her 
work  even  more  than  his.  Then  he  laid  before 
her  the  life  plans  he  had  formed,  and  proved  how 
they  were  all  for  her,  and  for  her  only.  He  made 
it  all  so  clear,  and  his  voice  was  so  confident,  and 
his  face  so  earnest,  as  he  pleaded  and  proved  it 
step  by  step,  that  she  felt,  as  she  leaned  against 
him  and  he  clasped  her  closely,  that  he  was  right, 
and  that  she  could  not  part  from  him. 

That  evening  Polly  was  unusually  silent;  but 
the  Colonel  thought  she  had  never  been  so  sweet. 
She  petted  him  until  he  swore  that  no  man  on 
earth  was  worthy  of  her,  and  that  none  should 
ever  have  her. 


228  IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

After  tea  she  went  to  his  room  to  look  over  his 
clothes  (her  especial  work),  and  would  let  no  one, 
not  even  her  mammy,  help  her;  and  when  the 
Colonel  insisted  on  coming  in  to  tell  her  some 
more  concerning  the  glories  of  New  Orleans  in 
his  day,  she  finally  put  him  out  and  locked  the 
door  on  him. 

She  was  very  strange  all  the  evening.  As  they 
were  to  start  the  next  morning,  the  Colonel  was 
for  retiring  early ;  but  Polly  would  not  go  •  she 
loitered  around,  hung  about  the  old  fellow,  petted 
him,  sat  on  his  knee  and  kissed  him,  until  he  was 
forced  to  insist  on  her  going  to  bed.  Then  she 
said  good-night,  and  astonished  the  Colonel  by 
throwing  herself  into  his  arms  and  bursting  out 
crying. 

The  old  man  soothed  her  with  caresses  and  baby 
talk,  such  as  he  used  to  comfort  her  with  when 
she  was  a  little  girl,  and  when  she  became  calm 
he  handed  her  to  her  door  as  if  she  had  been  a 
duchess. 

The  house  was  soon  quiet,  except  that  once  the 
Colonel  heard  Polly  walking  in  her  room,  and 
mentally  determined  to  chide  her  for  sitting  up  so 
late.  lie,  however,  drifted  off  from  the  subject 
when  he  heard  some  of  his  young  mules  galloping 
around  the  yard,  and  he  made  a  sleepy  resolve  to 
sell  them  all,  or  to  dismiss  his  overseer  next  day 
for  letting  them  out  of  the  lot.  Before  he  had 
quite  determined  which  he  should  do,  he  dropped 
off  to  sleep  again. 


POLL  Y  22y 

It  was  possibly  about  this  time  that  a  young 
man  lifted  into  her  saddle  a  dark-habited  little 
figure,  whose  face  shone  very  white  in  the  star 
light,  and  whose  tremulous  voice  would  have  sug 
gested  a  refusal  had  it  not  been  drowned  in  the 
deep,  earnest  tone  of  her  lover.  Although  she 
declared  that  she  could  not  think  of  doing  it,  she 
had  on  her  hat  and  furs  and  riding-habit  when 
Bob  came.  She  did,  indeed,  really  beg  him  to  go 
away ;  but  a  few  minutes  later  a  pair  of  horses 
cantered  down  the  avenue  toward  the  lawn  gate, 
which  shut  with  a  bang  that  so  frightened  the 
little  lady  on  the  bay  mare  that  the  young  man 
found  it  necessary  to  lean  over  and  throw  a  steady 
ing  arm  around  her. 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life  Polly  saw  the  sun 
rise  in  North  Carolina,  and  a  few  hours  later  a 
gentle-voiced  young  clergyman,  whose  sweet- 
faced  wife  was  wholly  carried  away  by  Polly's 
beauty,  received  under  protest  Bob's  only  gold 
piece,  a  coin  which  he  twisted  from  his  watch- 
chain  with  the  promise  to  quadruple  it  if  he  would 
preserve  it  until  he  could  redeem  it. 

When  Charity  told  the  Colonel  next  morning 
that  Polly  was  gone,  the  old  man  for  the  first  time 
in  fifty  years  turned  perfectly  white.  Then  he 
fell  into  a  consuming  rage,  and  swore  until  Charity 
would  not  have  been  much  surprised  to  see  the 
devil  appear  in  visible  shape  and  claim  him  on  the 
spot.  He  cursed  Bob,  cursed  himself,  cursed 
Torm,  Charity,  and  the  entire  female  sex  Individ- 


23o  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

ually  and  collectively,  and  then,  seized  by  a  new 
idea,  he  ordered  his  horse,  that  he  might  pursue 
the  runaways,  threatened  an  immediate  sale  of  his 
whole  plantation,  and  the  instantaneous  death  of 
Bob,  and  did  in  fact  get  down  his  great  brass- 
mounted  pistols,  and  lay  them  by  him  as  he  made 
Torm,  Charity,  and  a  half-dozen  younger  house- 
servants  dress  him. 

Dressing  and  shaving  occupied  him  about  an 
hour  —  he  always  averred  that  a  gentleman  could 
not  dress  like  a  gentleman  in  less  time  —  and, 
still  breathing  out  threatenings  and  slaughter,  he 
marched  out  of  his  room,  making  Torm  and 
Charity  follow  him,  each  with  a  pistol.  Some 
thing  prompted  him  to  stop  and  inspect  them  in 
the  hall.  Taking  first  one  and  then  the  other,  he 
examined  them  curiously. 

"  Well,  I'll  be !  "  he  said,  dryly,  and  flung 

both  of  them  crashing  through  the  window.  Turn 
ing,  he  ordered  waffles  and  hoe-cakes  for  break 
fast,  and  called  for  the  books  to  have  prayers. 

Polly  had  utilized  the  knowledge  she  had  gained 
as  a  girl,  and  had  unloaded  both  pistols  the  night 
before,  and  rammed  the  balls  down  again  without 
powder,  so  as  to  render  them  harmless. 

By  breakfast  time  Torm  was  in  a  state  of  such 
advanced  intoxication  that  he  was  unable  to  walk 
through  the  back  yard  gate,  and  the  Colonel  was 
forced  to  content  himself  with  sending  by  Charity 
a  message  that  he  would  get  rid  of  him  early  the 
next  morning.  He  straitly  enjoined  Charity  to  tell 
him,  and  she  as  solemnly  promised  to  do  so. 


POLLY  aji 

"  Yes,  suh,  /  gwi'  tell  him,"  she  replied,  with  a 
faint  tone  of  being  wounded  at  his  distrust ;  and 
she  did. 

She  needed  an  outlet. 

Things  got  worse.  The  Colonel  called  up  the 
overseer  and  gave  new  orders,  as  if  he  proposed 
to  change  everything.  He  forbade  any  mention 
of  Polly's  name,  and  vowed  that  he  would  send 
for  Mr.  Steep,  his  lawyer,  and  change  his  will  to 
spite  all  creation.  This  humor,  instead  of  wear 
ing  off,  seemed  to  grow  worse  as  the  time  stretched 
on,  and  Torm  actually  grew  sober  in  the  shadow 
that  had  fallen  on  the  plantation.  The  Colonel 
had  Polly's  room  nailed  up  and  shut  himself  up 
in  the  house. 

The  negroes  discussed  the  condition  of  affairs 
in  awed  undertones,  and  watched  him  furtively 
whenever  he  passed.  Various  opinions  by  turns 
prevailed.  Aunt  Betty,  who  was  regarded  with 
veneration,  owing  partly  to  the  interest  the  lost 
Polly  had  taken  in  her  illness,  and  partly  to  her 
great  age  (to  which  she  annually  added  three 
years)  prophesied  that  he  was  going  to  die  "  in 
torments,"  just  like  some  old  uncle  of  his  whom 
no  one  else  had  ever  heard  of  until  now,  but  who 
was  raked  up  by  her  to  serve  as  a  special  example. 
The  chief  resemblance  seemed  to  be  a  certain 
"  rankness  in  cussin'." 

Things  were  certainly  going  badly,  and  day  by 
day  they  grew  worse.  The  Colonel  became  more 
and  more  morose. 

"  He  don'  even  quoil  no  mo',"  Torm  complained 


232  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA    \ 

pathetically  to  Charity.  "  He  jes  set  still  and 
study.  I  'feard  he  gvvine  'stracted." 

It  was,  indeed,  lamentable.  It  was  accepted  on 
the  plantation  that  Miss  Polly  had  gone  for  good 
—  some  said  down  to  Louisiana  —  and  would 
never  come  back  any  more.  The  prevailing  im 
pression  was  that,  if  she  did,  the  Colonel  would 
certainly  kill  Bob.  Torm  had  not  a  doubt  of  it. 

Thus  matters  stood  three  days  before  Christmas. 
The  whole  plantation  was  plunged  in  gloom.  It 
would  be  the  first  time  since  Miss  Polly  was  a 
baby  that  they  had  not  had  "a  big  Christmas." 

Term's  lugubrious  countenance  one  morning 
seemed  to  shock  the  Colonel  out  of  his  lethargy. 
He  asked  how  many  days  there  would  be  before 
Christmas,  and  learning  that  there  were  but  three, 
he  ordered  preparations  to  be  made  for  a  great 
feast  and  a  big  time  generally.  He  had  the  wood 
pile  replenished  as  usual,  got  up  his  presents,  and 
superintended  the  Christmas  operations  himself, 
as  Polly  used  to  do.  But  it  was  sad  work,  and 
when  Torm  and  Charity  retired  Christmas  Eve 
night,  although  Torm  had  imbibed  plentifully,  and 
the  tables  were  all  spread  for  the  great  dinner  for 
the  servants  next  day,  there  was  no  peace  in 
Torm's  discourse ;  it  was  all  of  wrath  and  judg 
ment  to  come. 

He  had  just  gone  to  sleep  when  there  was  a 
knock  at  the  door. 

"  Who  dat  out  dyah  ?  "  called  Charity.  «  You 
niggers  better  go  'long  to  bed." 


POLL  Y  233 

The  knock  was  repeated. 

"Who  dat  out  dyah,  I  say?  "  queried  Charity, 
testily.  "  Whyn't  you  go  'long  'way  from  dat  do'  ? 
Torm,Torm,  dee's  somebody  at  de  do',"  she  said, 
as  the  knocking  was  renewed. 

Torm  was  hard  to  wake,  but  at  length  he  got 
up  and  moved  slowly  to  the  door,  grumbling  to 
himself  all  the  time. 

When  finally  he  undid  the  latch,  Charity,  who 
was  in  bed,  heard  him  exclaim,  "  Well,  name  o' 
Gord!  good  Gord  A'mighty!"  and  burst  into  a 
wild  explosion  of  laughter. 

In  a  second  she  too  was  outside  of  the  door,  and 
had  Polly  in  her  arms,  laughing,  jumping,  hugging, 
and  kissing  her  while  Torm  executed  a  series  of 
caracoles  around  them. 

"Whar  Marse  Bob?"  asked  both  negroes, 
finally,  in  a  breath. 

"  Hello,  Torm  !  How  arc  you,  Mam'  Charity  ?  " 
called  that  gentleman,  cheerily,  coming  up  from 
where  he  had  been  fastening  the  horses;  and 
Charity,  suddenly  mindful  of  her  peculiar  appear 
ance  and  of  the  frosty  air,  "  scuttled  "  into  the 
house,  conveying  her  young  mistress  with  her. 

Presently  she  came  out  dressed,  and  invited  Bob 
in  too.  She  insisted  on  giving  them  something  to 
eat ;  but  they  had  been  to  supper,  and  Polly  was 
much  too  excited  hearing  about  her  uncle  to  eat 
anything.  She  cried  a  little  at  Charity's  descrip 
tion  of  him,  which  she  tried  to  keep  Bob  from 
seeing,  but  he  saw  it,  and  had  to  —  however,  when 


234  IN   OLE    VIRGINIA 

they  got  ready  to  go  home,  Polly  insisted  on  going 
to  the  yard  and  up  on  the  porch,  and  when  there, 
she  actually  kissed  the  window-blind  of  the  room 
whence  issued  a  muffled  snore  suggestive  at  least 
of  some  degree  of  forgetfulness.  She  wanted  Bob 
to  kiss  it  too,  but  that  gentleman  apparently  found 
something  else  more  to  his  taste,  and  her  entreaty 
was  drowned  in  another  sound. 

Before  they  remounted  their  horses  Polly  carried 
Bob  to  the  greenhouse,  where  she  groped  around 
in  the  darkness  for  something,  to  Bob's  complete 
mystification.  "  Doesn't  it  smell  sweet  in  here  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  I  don't  smell  anything  but  that  mint  bed 
you've  been  walking  on,"  he  laughed. 

As  they  rode  off,  leaving  Torm  and  Charity 
standing  in  the  road,  the  last  thing  Polly  said  was, 
"  Now  be  sure  you  tell  him  —  nine  o'clock." 

"  Umm !  I  know  he  gwi'  sell  me  den  sho 
'nough,"  said  Torm,  in  a  tone  of  conviction,  as 
the  horses  cantered  away  in  the  frosty  night. 

Once  or  twice,  as  they  galloped  along,  Bob  made 
some  allusion  to  the  mint  bed  on  which  Polly  had 
stepped,  to  which  she  made  no  reply.  But  as  he 
helped  her  down  at  her  own  door,  he  asked, 
"What  in  the  world  have  you  got  there?" 

"  Mint,"  said  she,  with  a  little  low,  pleased  laugh. 

By  light  next  morning  it  was  known  all  over  the 
plantation  that  Miss  Polly  had  returned.  The  re 
joicing,  however,  was  clouded  by  the  fear  that 
nothing  would  come  of  it. 


POLLY  235 

In  Charity's  house  it  was  decided  that  Torm 
should  break  the  news.  Torm  was  doubtful  on 
the  point  as  the  time  drew  near,  but  Charity's 
mind  never  wavered.  Finally  he  went  in  with  his 
master's  shaving- water,  having  first  tried  to  estab 
lish  his  courage  by  sundry  pulls  at  a  black  bottle. 
He  essayed  three  times  to  deliver  the  message, 
but  each  time  his  courage  failed,  and  he  hastened 
out  under  pretence  of  the  water  having  gotten 
cold.  The  last  time  he  attracted  Charity's  at 
tention. 

"  Name  o'  Gord,  Torm,  you  gwine  to  scawl 
hawgs  ?  "  she  asked,  sarcastically. 

The  next  time  he  entered  the  Colonel  was  in  a 
fume  of  impatience,  so  he  had  to  fix  the  water. 
He  set  down  the  can,  and  bustled  about  with  hypo 
critical  industry.  The  Colonel,  at  last,  was  almost 
through;  Torm  retreated  to  the  door.  As  his 
master  finished,  he  put  his  hand  on  the  knob,  and 
turning  it,  said,  "  Miss  Polly  come  home  larse 
night;  sh'  say  she  breakfast  at  nine  o'clock." 

Slapbang !  came  the  shaving-can,  smashing 
against  the  door,  just  as  he  dodged  out,  and  the 
roar  of  the  Colonel  followed  him  across  the  hall. 

When  finally  their  master  appeared  on  the  por 
tico,  Torm  and  Charity  were  watching  in  some 
doubt  whether  he  would  not  carry  out  on  the  spot 
his  long-threatened  purpose.  He  strode  up  and 
down  the  long  porch,  evidently  in  great  excitement. 

"  He's  tumble  dis  mornin',"  said  Torm  ;  "  he 
th'owed  de  whole  kittle  o'  b'ilin'  water  at  me." 


236  'IN  OLE   VIRGINIA 

"  Pity  he  didn'  scawl  you  to  death,"  said  his 
wife,  sympathizingly.  She  thought  Torm's  awk 
wardness  had  destroyed  Polly's  last  chance.  Torm 
resorted  to  his  black  bottle,  and  proceeded  to  talk 
about  the  lake  of  brimstone  and  fire. 

Up  and  down  the  portico  strode  the  old  Colonel. 
His  horse  was  at  the  rack,  where  he  was  always 
brought  before  breakfast.  (For  twenty  years  he 
had  probably  never  missed  a  morning.)  Finally 
he  walked  down,  and  looked  at  the  saddle;  of 
course,  it  was  all  wrong.  He  fixed  it,  and, 
mounting,  rode  off  in  the  opposite  direction  to 
that  whence  his  invitation  had  come.  Charity, 
looking  out  of  her  door,  inserted  into  her  diatribe 
against  "  all  wuthless,  drunken,  fool  niggers  "  a 
pathetic  parenthesis  to  the  effect  that  "  Ef  Marster 
meet  Marse  Bob  dis  mornih',  de  don'  be  a  hide 
nor  hyah  left  o'nyah  one  on  'em ;  an'  dat  lamb 
over  dyah  maybe  got  oystchers  waitin'  for  him 
too." 

Torm  was  so  much  impressed  that  he  left  Char 
ity  and  went  out  of  doors. 

The  Colonel  rode  down  the  plantation,  his  great 
gray  horse  quivering  with  life  in  the  bright  winter 
sunlight.  He  gave  him  the  rein,  and  he  turned 
down  a  cross-road  which  led  out  of  the  plantation 
into  the  main  highway.  Mechanically  he  opened 
the  gate  and  rode  out.  Before  he  knew  where  he 
was  he  was  through  the  wood,  and  his  horse  had 
stopped  at  the  next  gate.  It  was  the  gate  of 
Bob's  place.  The  house  stood  out  bright  and 


FOLLY  237 

plain  among  the  yard  trees  ;  lines  of  blue  smoke 
curled  up  almost  straight  from  the  chimneys ;  and 
he  could  see  two  or  three  negroes  running  back 
ward  and  forward  between  the  kitchen  and  the 
house.  The  sunlight  glistened  on  something  in 
the  hand  of  one  of  them,  and  sent  a  ray  of  dazzling 
light  all  the  way  to  the  old  man.  He  knew  it  was 
a  plate  or  a  dish.  He  took  out  his  watch  and 
glanced  at  it;  it  was  five  minutes  to  nine  o'clock. 
He  started  to  turn  around  to  go  home.  As  he 
did  so,  the  memory  of  all  the  past  swept  over  him, 
and  of  the  wrong  that  had  been  done  him.  He 
would  go  in  and  show  them  his  contempt  for  them 
by  riding  in  and  straight  out  again ;  and  he  ac 
tually  unlatched  the  gate  and  went  in.  As  he 
rode  across  the  field  he  recalled  all  that  Polly  had 
been  to  him  from  the  time  when  she  had  first 
stretched  out  her  arms  to  him  ;  all  the  little  ways 
by  which  she  had  brought  back  his  youth,  and  had 
made  his  house  home,  and  his  heart  soft  again. 
Every  scene  came  before  him  as  if  to  mock  him. 
He  felt  once  more  the  touch  of  her  little  hand; 
heard  again  the  sound  of  her  voice  as  it  used  to 
ring  through  the  old  house  and  about  the  grounds ; 
saw  her  and  Bob  as  children  romping  about  his 
feet,  and  he  gave  a  great  gulp  as  he  thought  how 
desolate  the  house  was  now.  He  sat  up  in  his 

saddle  stiffer  than  ever.     D him  !  he  would 

enter  his  very  house,  and  there  to  his  face  and 
hers  denounce  him  for  his  baseness ;  he  pushed 
his  horse  to  a  trot.  Up  to  the  yard  gate  he  rode, 


238  IN  OLE    VIRGINIA 

and,  dismounting,  hitched  his  horse  to  the  fence, 
and  slamming  the  gate  fiercely  behind  him,  stalked 
up  the  walk  with  his  heavy  whip  clutched  fast  in 
his  hand.  Up  the  walk  and  up  the  steps,  without 
a  pause,  his  face  set  as  grim  as  rock,  and  purple 
with  suppressed  emotion ;  for  a  deluge  of  memo 
ries  was  overwhelming  him. 

The  door  was  shut ;  they  had  locked  it  on  him ; 
but  he  would  burst  it  in,  and  —  Ah!  what  was 
that? 

The  door  flew  suddenly  open  ;  there  was  a  cry, 
a  spring,  a  vision  of  something  swam  before  his 
eyes,  and  two  arms  were  clasped  about  his  neck, 
while  he  was  being  smothered  with  kisses  from 
the  sweetest  mouth  in  the  world,  and  a  face  made 
up  of  light  and  laughter,  yet  tearful,  too,  like  a 
dew-bathed  flower,  was  pressed  to  his,  and  before 
the  Colonel  knew  it  he  had,  amid  laughter  and 
sobs  and  caresses,  been  borne  into  the  house,  and 
pressed  down  at  the  daintiest  little  breakfast-table 
eyes  ever  saw,  set  for  three  persons,  and  loaded 
with  steaming  dishes,  and  with  a  great  fresh  julep 
by  the  side  of  his  plate,  and  Torm  standing  be 
hind  his  chair,  whilst  Bob  was  helping  him  to 
"  oystchers,"  and  Polly,  with  dimpling  face,  was 
attempting  the  exploit  of  pouring  out  his  coffee 
without  moving  her  arm  from  around  his  neck. 

The  first  thing  he  said  after  he  recovered  his 
breath  was,  "  Where  did  you  get  this  mint  ?  " 

Polly  broke  into  a  peal  of  rippling,  delicious 
laughter,  and  tightened  the  arm  about  his  neck. 


POLL  Y  239 

"  Just  one  more  squeeze,"  said  the  Colonel ;  and 
as  she  gave  it  he  said,  with  the  light  of  it  all  break 
ing  on  him,  "  Damme  if  I  don't  sell  you !  or,  if  I 
can't  sell  you,  I'll  give  you  away  —  that  is,  if  he'll 
come  over  and  live  with  us." 

That  evening,  after  the  great  dinner,  at  which 
Polly  had  sat  in  her  old  place  at  the  head  of  the 
table,  and  Bob  at  the  foot,  because  the  Colonel 
insisted  on  sitting  where  Polly  could  give  him  one 
more  squeeze,  the  whole  plantation  was  ablaze 
with  "Christmas,"  and  Drinkwater  Torm, steady 
ing  himself  against  the  sideboard,  delivered  a  dis 
course  on  peace  on  earth  and  good-will  to  men  so 
powerful  and  so  eloquent  that  the  Colonel,  de 
lighted,  rose  and  drank  his  health,  and  said, 
"  Damme  if  I  ever  sell  him  again !  " 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


APR  22  1b42 


'        4     1944 


6Dec'57GS| 


REC'D  LD 


DEC   1195 


mv 


*5M£$  48 


IN  STACKS 


1-1965 


M98925 


' 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


DOXEY 

IMPOR  TER 


